PS 3531 
.037 S5 
1924 
Copy 1 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR 


By CHANNING POLLOCK 



SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th St,, New York 





Polly anna 

The glad play, by Catherine Chisholm Cushing, after the 
novel by Eleanor H. Porter. 5 males, 6 females. 2 Interiors. 
Costumes, modem. Plays 2*4 hours. An orphan girl Is thrust 
Into the home of a maiden aunt. In spite of the trials that 
beset her, she manages to find something to be glad about, and 
brings light into sunless lives. Finally Pollyanna straightens 
out the love affairs of her elders, and finds happiness for herself 
in Jimmy. “Pollyanna” gives a better appreciation of people 
and the world. It reflects the humor and humanity that gave 
the story such wonderful popularity among young and oldL 
Produced in New York, and for two seasons on tour. Royalty’, 
$25.00. Price, 75 cents. • i ' 



Martha By-the-Day 

An optimistic comedy in 3 acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author 
of the “Martha” stories. 5 males, 5 females. 3 interiors. Cos¬ 
tumes, modern. Plays 2% hours. 

Full of quaint humor, old-fashioned, homely sentiment* the 
kind that people who see the play will recall and chuckle over 



tomorrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her successful book for 
the stage and has selected from her novel the most telling 
incidents, infectious comedy and homely sentiment « for the 
plaj% and the result Is thoroughly delightful. Royalty, $25. 
Price, 60 cents. 


Seventeen 


A comedy of youth, in 4 acts, by Booth Tarkington. 8 males, 

6 females. 1 exterior, 2 interiors. Costumes, modern. Plays 
2% hours. 

It is the tragedy of William "Sylvanus Baxter that he has 
ceased to be sixteen and is not yet eighteen. Seventeen is not 
an age, it is a disease. 

In his heart William knows ail the tortures and delights of 
love. But he is still sent by his mother on errands of the most \ 

humiliating sort and depends on his father for every nickel, ^ -‘fVS’ 

the use of which he must justify before he gets it. :. 

“Silly” Bill fell *n love with Cola, the “Baby-Talk Cady," 
a vapid little flirt. To woo her in a manner worthy of himself 
{and of her) he steals his father’s evening clothes. When hi# 
wooings become a nuisance to the neighborhood, his mother 
steals them back, and has them let out to fit the middle-aged 
form of her husband, thereby keeping William at home. 

But when it comes to the “Baby-Talk .Lady’s” good-bye 
dance, not to be present was unendurable. Now William agtua 
gets the dress suit, and how he wears it at the party, and . 

Genesis discloses the fact that the proud garment is in reality 
his father’s makes up the story of the play. 

“Seventeen” is a work of exquisite human sympathy and 
delicious humor. Royalty, $25.00. Price, 75 cents. 

, JEr .-^- T ,-- T - _. Ti r _— ._ r _ r . . ___^ 

SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 
New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed 

Free on Request c o l 



THE 

SIGN ON THE DOOR 

A Play in a Prologue and Three Acts 

BY 

CHANNING POLLOCK 


Copyright 1920 by Channing Pollock. 
Copyright 1924 by Channing Pollock. 


All rights reserved 


CAUTION.—Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
that “ THE SIGN ON THE DOOR,” being fully pro¬ 
tected under the copyright laws of the United States of 
America, Great Britain, the Dominion of Canada, and in 
all countries subscribing to the Berne Convention, is 
subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play 
without the consent of the author or his authorized agents 
will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applica¬ 
tions for the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel 
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N.Y. 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
Publishers 

26 Southampton Street 
STRAND, W.C.2 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 
Publisher 

25 WEST 45TH STREET 





J* S. g* <£■ t 

/ O w ^ / 

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♦ W ^ / W V? 


Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book 
without a valid contract for production first having been obtained 
from the publishers, confers no right or license to professionals or 
amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or 
charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public 
only, and no performance, representation, production, recitation, 
public reading, or radio broadcasting may be given except by 
special arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, 
New York, N.Y. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a 
royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each performance, payable to 
Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N.Y., one week 
before the date when the play is given. 

Whenever the play is produced by amateurs the following notice 
must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play: “ Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of 
New York.” 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any 
infringement of the author’s rights, as follows: 

“ Section 4966 :—Any person publicly performing or representing 
any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been 
obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or 
musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for 
damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such 
sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars 
for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be 
just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and 
for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, 
and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding 
one year.—U.S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3.” 


$>CI.D 70348 


Made and Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London 




£3 

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THE SIGN ON THE DOOR 

Produced at the Playhouse, London, on September 1,1921, with the following 
cast of characters :— 

THE PROLOGUE 


Hugh (a waiter) . 

• 




9 

Robert Minster 

Frank Devereaux 






Leslie Faber 

Ann Hunniwell . 

• 




• 

Gladys Cooper 

Captain Burke . 

. 




• 

Joseph Cunningham 

A Newspaper Photographer 





J. Wallett Waller 

Police Officer . 

• 




• 

Frank Lennard 



THE 

PLAY 




Mrs. “ Lafe ” Regan . 





# 

Gladys Cooper 

Alan Churchill . 






Trevor Grantham 

Helen Regan 






Muriel Martin-Harvey 

Marjorie Blake. 





• 

Daisy Elliston 

‘‘ Lafe ” Regan . 





• 

Godfrey Tearle 

Bates ( a butler) . 





• 

Ernest Haines 

Frank Devereaux 





« 

Leslie Faber 

Ferguson . 





• 

Clifton Boyne 

“Kick” Callahan 





• 

Arthur Stratton 

Inspector Treffy 





♦ 

Ernest Leeman 

Officer McLoughlin . 





• 

Douglas Thompson 

“ Rud ” Whiting ( the District Attorney) 


• 

Robert Minster 


o 











THE SCENES 

The Prologue. —A private supper-room at the Cafe Mazarin , New York. 

Act I. — Regan’s house at New Rochelle—just outside New York. Five years 
have elapsed. 

Act II .—A room at the Ritz. Evening of the same day. 

Act III .—The same. Half an hour later . 





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The Prologue of “The Sign on the Door” 

(The scene is a triangle, with the curtain line as its base) 












































































THE SIGN ON THE DOOR 

PROLOGUE 

Scene.— A 'private supper-room at the Cafe Mazarin, New York. 

Below window l., against flat, is a marble-topped table, upon 
which is a palm. On wall above is a picture. Above window l. 
is a small console table, upon which is a serviette laid flat, a glass 
jug containing ice and water, and two tumblers. On wall above is 
a picture. On flat each side of door is a three-candle electric bracket. 
On jog L. of door is an electric switch. On wall r.c. is a picture. 
R. is a divan, head down stage, behind which is a palm in a stand. 
L.c. a round dining-table , set for two people, as follows : Two large 
plates ; two large knives and forks ; two fish knives and forks ; 
two dessert spoons and forks ; two champagne glasses ; two ser¬ 
viettes ; two small plates, with a roll on each; two small knives; 
pepper ; salt; an ash-tray ; match-stand with matches ; a bowl 
of flowers ; rack of toast; two chairs, one each r. and l. of dining- 
table. 

Time.— It is just after eleven o'clock at night. 

{At rise the stage is dark, except for the night light which shines 
across the room through the French windows l. Hugh, the waiter , 
opens the door up R.c. As he does so, a burst of ribald laughter, 
in which the top note is that of a woman the worse for liquor, is 
heard in the hall. Hugh touches a button (brass-plate light switch 
set in the thickness l. of the door) and the stage is illuminated, the 
light coming from two two-light brackets with gold shades on the 
wall r. and l. of arch up R.c.) 

Hugh (l. of the door). Here you are, sir. 

(Enter Ann Hunniwell, c. of table, and Frank Devereaux, r. of 
table. Hugh steps back to up r.c.) 

(Ann is of an excellent middle-class family, that has fallen upon evil 
days, with the result that she is a stenographer. She is pretty, of 
course, and something over twenty. Her dress is her best, not expen¬ 
sive and not conspicuously shabby or inappropriate. She is quieted 
by the room, and hesitates up l. of the arch. As they stand looking 
about the room Hugh moves above them to r. of Frank.) 

5 


6 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


Frank (to Ann). Well, Ann. How do you like it ? 

Ann (doubtfully). It seems rather—private. 

(Hugh flashes at her a quick glance of surprise and suspicion.) 

Frank. It is private. (Pleasantly.) It’s a private supper-room. 
(Indicates roses on table c.) Look, your favourite roses. Ordered 

’em yesterday. Of course, if you’d rather go somewhere else-? 

Ann. Oh, no ! It just seemed strange. 

(Frank helping her take off her wrap , which he hands to Hugh.) 

Frank. I hate eating to music, and it gets a bit noisy down¬ 
stairs around twelve o’clock. (Drops down to above table c.) 

(Hugh puts wrap on settle, and drops down r., menu card , order pad 
and pencil in hand.) 

Ann. Oh! I must be home by twelve o’clock. 

Frank (above chair r. of table c.). Before the pretty frock turns 
to rags. 

Ann. I’ve got to go to work in the morning. (Looking round l., 
she moves to l. of table c.) 

(Hugh looks at her again.) 

Frank. Which means a quick supper and a taxi for Cinderella. 
(Turns to Hugh.) All right! Serve the supper now, will you, 
waiter ? 

Hugh (surprised). Supper, sir ? (Down a little.) 

Frank. Yes, of cousse. I telephoned my order this morning. 
Didn’t you get it ? 

Hugh. No, sir. 

Frank (softly). Well, I’ll be damn- (Looks at Ann, checks 

himself, then goes to Hugh, r.) Never mind! What’s ready ? 
(Reaches for menu card.) 

Hugh (handing menu card to Frank — at a loss). Ready ? Why— 
oysters ! 

Frank. Oysters ! (Sarcastically to Ann.) If you blow out your 
brains, and live, you become a waiter! (Ordering.) Two clover 
club cocktails. Some Russian caviar. 

Ann (l. of table, below chair). Russian - ? 

Frank (to Ann). From Wilmington! (Continuing his order.) 
Cold partridge. Coeur de Palmier. (Hugh looks puzzled.) (Ex¬ 
plaining.) Hearts of Palm. (To Ann, referring to Hugh, in same 
tone as when ordering.) Mutton-head! (To Hugh.) Don’t write 
that! (Returns to menu.) And a quart of Clicquot, 1911. (Hands 
menu card to Hugh.) 

Ann (at l. of table — timidly). I don’t drink anything. 

Frank. No, but I do ! (To Hugh.) Mineral water for the lady. 
W^’ll order an ice afterwards. Please get a move on. 



THE SIGH ON THE DOOR. 


7 


(Hugh goes to console table above window l., where he 'pours out two 
glasses of water. Ann at the table. Frank looks her over. She 
glances up, and he feels obliged to speak.) 

That is a pretty frock. 

Ann (smiles, sitting on chair l. of dining-table). It was made by 
the very best dressmaker in Dayton. 

Frank (smiles). Dayton—Ohio ? (Crosses leisurely above table 
c. to l. of Ann.) 

(Hugh brings glasses of water to table and exits after Frank has 

crossed.) 

Ann (nods). Father was in business there. (Turns to Frank, 
who is now l. of and below her.) That is, he thought it was a business. 
When he died we came to New York. 

Frank (l. of Ann). Where did you learn stenography ? 

Ann. In Dayton. At a business college. Mother said, “ You 
never can tell,” and you couldn’t—with father. 

Frank. My father says you’re the best stenographer he ever 
had. 

Ann. He never said so to me. 

Frank. It’s against the old man’s principles to say anything 
that might cost him two dollars. 

Ann. You’re so different. 

Frank. Yes, that’s what worries father. 

Ann (with sudden sincerity). You’ve given me the nicest evening 
of my whole life. My first opera ! 

Frank. That’s why I asked you. 

Ann. I’d heard so much about “ Carmen.” 

Frank. She’s a wild woman ! 

Ann. I’m terribly grateful. 

Frank. That shows you’re not a New York girl. Have a 
cigarette ? 

(They laugh. He offers cigarette case.) 

Ann (she refuses, but nods permission for him to smoke). No, 
thank you. 

(He crosses above table to r. of it, and strikes match on stand and lights 
his cigarette.) 

Ann (after a pause). I’m afraid I show it in a good many ways. 
I haven’t been anywhere. Do you know, I’ve never even been to 
the Museum. 

Frank. Dear, dear. I can’t promise to take you there. 

Ann. Mother was ill for a good while before she died, and, any¬ 
way, she never liked my going out alone. 

Frank. Alone ? 


8 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


Ann. Alone— with any one. Mother was funny about men. 
She couldn’t ’ve understood any man being nice to me as you’ve 
been without expecting—well, you know what I mean. 

(Hugh opens door up r.c. and enters.) 

I’m afraid she’d be shocked if she could see me now. 

Hugh. The cocktails, sir. 

(Frank sitting. Hugh comes to above the table c. and on a motion 
from Frank he offers the tray to Ann.) 

Ann. Oh, I—I don’t think I will. 

Frank. Nonsense ! There’s nothing in them but a little grena¬ 
dine. (Tates cocktails from tray. To Hugh.) Hurry up that 
caviar! 

(Hugh exits up r.c. with tray—closes the door.) 

I wouldn’t have ordered ’em if there’d been any harm. It’s first 
cousin to a raspberry soda. 

(Ann takes cocktail from Frank.) 

Now taste that. 

(Ann hesitates, then sips drink.) 

Isn’t that nice ? 

(She smiles and nods.) 

Now go on, drink it up. It’ll do you good. 

(Ann drinks. Frank joins her — Ann chokes, and Frank indicates 
having some water, which she drinks.) 

Frank. Oh, dear, dear, have some water. 

(Ann drinks.) 

Better now ? (Puts cigarette in ash-tray.) So this is the first time 
you’ve been out to supper alone with any one ? What do you do 
with your evenings ? 

Ann. Read—mostly. 

Frank. Read ? What do you read ? 

Ann. Just now—Stevenson. For style. 

Frank. Stevenson for style ! I should’ve thought you’d have 
done better with Vogue. 

Ann (laughing). Literary style. 

(Frank looks at her, seeing that already the cocktail has had a relaxing 

effect.) 

I’m trying to improve myself. 

Frank. Nothing improves a woman like being happy. You’re 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


9 


always easy to look at, but to-night . . . well, to-night my eyes 
are taking liberties. 

Ann (vaguely worried by his tone and manner). Being happy 
doesn’t improve the mind, and that’s the important thing, isn’t it ? 

Frank. Yes, that’s the reason why the manufacturers of cor¬ 
sets and cosmetics spend millions every year teaching women how 
to improve—their minds. Of course, that doesn’t get ’em pretty 
clothes and furs and jewels and take ’em to hear “ Carmen.” 
Ann. I don’t want furs and jewels ! 

Frank. But you do want to hear “ Carmen.” “ The nicest 
evening of your whole life,” you said. Lights, music, admiration. 
Not because you’re a good stenographer, but because you’re a nice 
little girl . . . and I want you to be nice to me. 

(Hugh enters up r.c. with caviar on two small plates. Frank, annoyed 
at this interruption, leans back in his chair.) 

Hugh ( coming to above the table c.). The caviar, sir. 

Frank. Put it down and get out! 

(Hugh places caviar on table.) 

(To Ann, as Hugh goes to door and stands facing it.) Isn’t it worth 
while being good to me ? (Reaches across table and places his hand 
on her arm.) 

Ann. I think I’d better go home. 

Frank. Nonsense ! When everything’s on the table. (Rises 
and goes to her—he is above her. To Hugh, who is up by door.) 
Hurry on the partridge and bring that mineral water. 

(Hugh exits, closing the door.) 

(Frank places his hands on her shoulders. She gives a start.) 

I said you were a nice little girl; now be a good little girl and 
eat your supper. (Moves back to r. of table and sits.) 

Ann (when Frank is seated). I’m afraid you and I don’t agree 
about what makes “ a good girl.” 

Frank (innocently — as he serves the caviar). Why ? Because I 
think a good girl can have a good time ? A girl who can’t be good 
outside of her own room is like a man who can’t be honest except 
in jail. (Passes plate to Ann.) 

Ann (takes caviar). What did you mean by being good to you ? 
Frank. Taking me around—keeping me from being lonely. 
Why? 

(Handing her the toast rack, from which she takes a piece of toast.) 

Ann. Oh, nothing. (Passes her plate to him.) It doesn’t matter 
now. 

Frank. I know ; you thought that you were being insulted. 
Come on; confess ; you did, didn’t you ? 


10 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


Ann (smiles). Well, just for a moment. 

Frank. I’m sorry to disappoint you; but my intentions are 
strictly honourable. 

Ann (a little laugh). You make me feel like Tildy. 

Frank. Who’s Tildy ? 

Ann. Tildy’s a heroine in a short story by 0. Henry. 

Frank. By George, I’d forgotten I was having supper with a 
highbrow. Come on now, tell me all about Tildy. 

Ann. Well, Tildy was a plain little waitress in a cheap restaurant, 
and one day she took on the greatest airs because she said a gentle¬ 
man had insulted her. Next day some of the girls found her crying. 
It appears the gentleman had returned and apologized. Worse 
still, he said if he’d been sober he would never have done it. 

(They laugh.) 

Frank. I think most insults are like that. There’s been a great 
deal in the papers lately about the way men behave to girls in stores. 
All my friends behave as if they were frightened to death of ’em. 
I wouldn’t dare speak to a girl in the stores without a letter of 
introduction. 

(They laugh again.) 

Ann. Aren’t you timid ? 

Frank. All men are timid because they know what’s expected 
of ’em. (A slight pause.) Men who speak good English have 
especially bad morals; and evening clothes, the world over, are 
the uniform of villainy. But I don’t blame you. I’m the son of 
your employer, and that stamps me, from the word “ go,” as a low 
scoundrel. 

Ann. That isn’t fair. 

Frank. As a matter of fact, I liked you because you looked so 
timid; I like making things a little easier for you at the office, 
and when you said you’d never been to the opera . . . 

Ann. If I hadn’t believed in you, I shouldn’t have gone. 
Frank. So here we are and all is forgiven. Now I’m going to 
make life a little brighter for you, and you’re going to make life a 
great deal brighter for me; and we’re friends, aren’t we ? (He 
holds out his l. hand across the table.) 

Ann (giving him her hand). Indeed we are—good friends. 

(Boor up r.c. is opened and Hugh enters. Ann pulls her hand away. 
Frank leans hack in chair in disgust. Hugh comes down to above 
table c. He carries a silver wine-cooler with a quart bottle of cham¬ 
pagne covered with a napkin in right hand , and a partridge on a 
silver dish; puts partridge on table, goes hack and shuts door and 
comes down r. of Frank with wine bucket.) 

Frank (leaning hack in his chair as Hugh comes down). What 
was the name of that girl ? 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


11 


Ann. Tildy l 
Frank. Tildy—what ? 

Ann (laughing). Why, I don’t know her last name. 

Frank. Maybe she hadn’t another name. 

Hugh (places the wine bucket on the floor below the table beside 
Frank and speaks). May I speak to you a moment, sir ? 

Frank (annoyed). What ? 

Hugh (repeats). May I speak to you a moment, sir ? (Goes r.) 
Frank. Yes ! I suppose so. (To Ann — as he rises.) Excuse 
me. (Moves to Hugh, r.) Well ? 

Hugh (over r.). Are you Mr. Devereaux, sir ? 

Frank (r.c.). Why ? 

Hugh. There’s a gentleman downstairs asking for Mr. Dever¬ 
eaux. 

Frank. It must be a mistake. Nobody knows I’m here. (An 
impatient movement to table as though to dismiss the subject.) 

Hugh (insistently — Frank stops). I think he saw you come in, 

sir. 

Frank. I can’t help that. 

Hugh. I beg your pardon, sir 

(Beckoning with his head to Frank, who goes back to him), 

but the gentleman might be your father. 

Frank. Yes ; it might. (Crosses to Ann.) Will you excuse me 
a second. (Holding her hand.) 

Ann. Of course. 

Frank (above her). I shan’t be a minute. (To Hugh.) Open 
that wine ! 

(Goes to door and exits up r.c., closing the door.) 

(Hugh goes up to the door, opens it and looks off after Frank — then 
closes door and comes down to above the table c.) 

Hugh (above table c., speaks in a low tone). I beg pardon, miss — 
do you know where you are ? 

Ann. Yes. I saw the name as we came in. The Cafe Mazarin. 
Hugh. I mean, do you know the sort of a place ? 

Ann. It seems a very nice place. 

Hugh. It isn’t. (Crosses to console table above window l., and 
puts down caviar. Speaks as he comes down to above dining-table.) 
It’s very expensive and very luxurious, but it isn’t very nice. 
(Plates together.) 

Ann. I don’t understand. 

Hugh. I didn’t think you did. That’s why I spoke. I’ve got 
daughters of my own, and I shouldn’t like ’em to be here. (Goes 
up to console with dirty plates and comes back to above table.) 

Ann. Mr. Devereaux said the very best people come here. 


12 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


Hugh. That’s right. The best people do come here, but not 
for the best reasons. There’s a restaurant downstairs that isn’t 
so bad, but these rooms—well, the prices are double, and no questions 
asked. 

Ann. I must tell Mr. Devereaux. 

Hugh ( steps up c., boks at door up r.c. and then goes to R. of table. 
All one movement). I wouldn’t. 

Ann. Why not ? 

Hugh. He knows. 

Ann (rising and stepping back l.). Impossible! 

Hugh. It’s impossible that he shouldn’t. He’s been here twice 
this week. 

Ann. With—ladies ? 

Hugh. You might call ’em that. 

Ann. I don’t believe you. 

Hugh. Then how did I know his name was Devereaux ? 

Ann. The gentleman downstairs- 

Hugh. There isn’t any gentleman downstairs. Not to speak to 
him. I invented the gentleman so I could speak to you. 

Ann. But you said it was his father. I heard you. 

Hugh. I said it might be his father—and it might. He’s got 
a father. I heard him mention the old gentleman to you. 

Ann. I don’t believe it. He’s been so kind. 

Hugh. Gentlemen expecting what he does generally are. 

Ann. What am I to do ? 

Hugh. -Get out— now ! 

Ann (in surprise). Before he comes back ? 

Hugh. Yes. 

Ann (still unconvinced). But supposing you’re wrong—supposing 
he doesn’t mean any harm ? Supposing this place isn’t as bad as 
you think ? 

Hugh. This place is being watched by the police. (Goes quickly 
above table to console table.) Stay if you like ! Whatever happens 
now, it’s up to you ! 

Ann (goes front of table and up to divan, where she takes her wrap 
—as she crosses). I’m going ! 

Hugh. Good! Take the turn to your right. (Goes to Ann.) 
Down the back stairs ! Have you got any money ? 

Ann (by r. of door). A little. 

Hugh. Enough for a taxi ? 

Ann. No. 

Hugh (taking a dollar bill from his pocket). Here—take this ! 
Get a taxi and go home ! 

Ann. I can’t! 

Hugh. Don’t talk. (Forces the money into her hand.) Take it. 

Ann (starts for the door). Thank you ! 

Hugh (opens the door, looks out into the hall). Wait! (Quickly 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


13 


closes the door—then in a loud whisper.) Put up your things and 
sit down. He’s coming back. 

(She puts wrap hack on settee and crosses below table c. and sits r. 
of it, puts bill in her bag, picks up the programme and peruses it.) 

Make some excuse and beat it. (Goes to front of table.) It’s up to 
you now ! (Takes bottle from the bucket and tries to open it.) 

(Frank enters up r.c. and hesitates in doorway.) 

(In ordinary tone.) Wine goes flat if you let it stand ! (Steps back 
to r. of and below chair r. of the table.) 

Frank (looks ait them suspiciously. Then to Hugh as he shuts 
the door). What are you waiting for ? 

Hugh. To serve the supper. One glass, sir ? 

Frank. Two. 

Hugh. I thought the lady was taking mineral water, sir. 
(Frank comes down r. to l. of Hugh.) 

Frank. Yes ! You thought there was a gentleman downstairs. 
Hugh. Well, sir ? 

Frank. Well, there wasn’t! 

Hugh. I’m sorry, sir. I guess he didn’t wait. (Draws cork 
from bottle.) 

Frank. My instinct told me you were a rotten waiter! Here, 
give me that bottle. 

(Hugh gives bottle to Frank, keeping napkin and cork.) 

I’ll serve the supper. Now get out, and stay out! 

(Ann puts programme on table.) 

Hugh. Thank you, sir. (With significance.) I’m all through. 

(He exits up r.c., closing the door.) 

(Frank pours out two glasses of wine, then places bottle in cooler r. 

of table.) 

Frank (pauses till Hugh is off). Forgive me for calling him a 
rotten waiter, Ann, but he is a rotten waiter. I thought I was 
in for a bad five minutes with the old man. He doesn’t approve 
of my office friendships. Says they destroy discipline. (Moves to 
above her, where he stands looking down at her throat. A slight pause.) 
How white your neck is! (Warned by her silence.) Have some 
partridge ? (He gets his chair, places it above dining-table and sits.) 
Ann. Do you know, I don’t think I’ll wait for the partridge. 
Frank. Good heavens, what universal impatience! Father 
wouldn’t wait for me, and you won’t wait for the partridge. 
Ann. I’ve a miserable headache. 


14 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


Frank. I’m so sorry. (Pushing wine-glass toward her.) Have 
some champagne. 

Ann. I told you I didn’t drink anything. 

Frank. I know, but—medicinally ? 

Ann. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go home. 

Frank. But I do mind. (Subdues rising temper.) It wouldn’t 
be fair to the partridge. 

Ann. Really I do feel ill. The excitement’s been too much for 
me. (Rises, picking up her bag—with feeling.) Please— I want to 
go. (Crossing in front of table to up r.c. for cloak and picks it up.) 

Frank (rising). But I don’t want you to go. 

Ann. I’ve said I’m sorry. 

Frank. Sorry won’t do. And that headache won’t wash! 
What’s that waiter been saying to you ? 

Ann. Nothing. 

Frank. Oh, yes, he has. You hadn’t a headache when I went 
downstairs. I’ll see he loses his job ! I’m doing my best to give 
you a pleasant evening, and you’ve no right to behave like this ! 

Ann. You’ve no right to keep me here against my will. 

Frank. We’ll talk about what’s right after supper ! (Locks the 
door and takes the key.) 

Ann. Please don’t lock that door! 

Frank (puts door-key in r .-hand trousers pocket). The door is 
locked. 

Ann. I’ll call for help ! 

Frank. A lot of good that’ll do you. They’re used to women 
who come here, get what they want and leave without making any 
return. (Crosses to window L., lowers French blind, crosses to above 
table and drinks.) 

(Ann looks at him with horror and then violently shakes the door.) 

(Sits.) When you’ve had your exercise, we’ll have our supper. 

Ann. What did you mean by making return ? 

Frank. What do you think I meant ? (Turns to her.) Why 
did you come here ? 

Ann. I didn’t know. 

Frank. I’m afraid you’ll find it difficult making your friends 
believe that. (Rising to l. of her.) 

(She backs to divan.) 

Come, we’ve had our little quarrel. I’m not a bad sort, and I’ll 
keep my promises. After all, what are you giving up—besides 
stenography and Stevenson ? Do you like living in a boarding¬ 
house and evenings alone, and mornings spent slaving for the old 
man ? 

Ann. If you don’t unlock that door, I’ll tell your father. 

Frank. What ? That you didn’t know what you were doing 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 15 

when you came to the Cafe Mazarin ? You tell the old man that 
and he’ll fire you. He can’t fire me. 

Ann. Do you suppose I’d work another day in that office with 
you ? 

Frank. If you’re reasonable, you won’t have to. 

Ann. Open that door ! 

Frank. After supper ! 

Ann. What do you gain by keeping me here against my will ? 
Frank (with smouldering passion). I want to hold you in my 
arms, knowing you don’t want to be held. 

(He advances, she retreating r. front of the couch. He grabs her wrap 
at the collar with his r. hand and her l. wrist with his l. hand — 
cloak off.) 

I’ve been waiting for this ! 

Ann. No! No! No! No! No! 

Frank. Don’t be a damn fool! I’ve had enough of this ! 
You’ve had your evening, and I’m going to have mine ! (He has 
her in his arms.) 

Ann (fighting him off). No ! No ! No ! ! 

Frank. Kiss me! 

(Forces her down on the couch.) 

Ann (her hands against his chest—fighting for her virtue). You 
coward ! 

Frank (bending over her—his l. foot on floor—his r. knee on couch, 
he throws his whole weight against her). Kiss me ! (He kisses her.) 
Ann (screams as she tries to fight him off). Oh ! 

(A violent hammering on door up r.c. answers her scream. Frank 
puts his hand over her mouth and smothers further screams.) 

Frank (a moment of silence—then to Ann). Shush! Keep quiet! 
(Calling—as he gets to his feet.) Who’s there ? 

Burke (outside door r.c.). Captain Burke—Police Headquarters ! 
Frank. Good God! 

(There is an exclamation from Ann.) 

Don’t say a word and I’ll get you out of this ! 

Burke (outside up r.c.). Come on! Open the door! 

(A violent hammering on the door. TJse a hammer handle.) 

Frank (calling). All right! Just a minute ! 

Burke (outside up r.c.). Well, make it short! 

Frank (to Ann, who is dazed and silent). Listen! This place 
has been raided. We’re only witnesses! We can jump our bail, 
and nobody’ll be any the wiser. Don’t say a word. 

(Ann rises, faces r. and straightens herself. A violent hammering on 


16 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


door up r.c. He goes to door, takes key from K.-hand trousers pocket, 
unlocks door and throws it open. He steps away from door to front 
of couch. Enter Captain Burke, a Newspaper Photographer, 
Hugh and an Officer. The newspaper photographer carries a 
camera and a loaded flashlight torch. He comes on to up c., looks 
around, comes down L., pushing chairs to dining-table and turns 
his back to audience to conceal as far as possible the camera and 
flashlight. Hugh stands l. of the arch. The Officer remains in 
the doorway.) 

Burke (comes on to up r.c. to Frank). What’s the big idea— 
keeping us out in the hall ? 

Frank (over r.). What’s the idea of breaking in on us at supper ? 
Burke (looking at Ann). Supper ! 

Frank. Yes, supper! You’ll find it on the table. You’ve 
almost frightened the lady to death. 

Burke. All right! What’s your name and address ? 

Frank (impudently). John Smith. 436 Fifth Avenue. 

Burke. And who is this woman ? 

Frank. This lady is Mrs. John Smith. What are we charged 
with ? 

Burke. Nothing. Not even the supper. (Moves to above the 
table and glances at it.) We’re just going for a ride. 

(Frank takes hat. Burke turns and sees this move and calls to the 

Officer.) 

Stop him! 

Frank. Don’t worry! I’m not leaving a Lady. 

Burke (crosses quickly to between Frank and Ann). You bet 
you ain’t! Together you came, and together you’ll go ! 

(He moves forward a step, followed by Hugh, one hand grasping Ann’s 
arm and the other Frank’s. The Photographer holds flashlight 
above his head—explodes and takes photograph of Ann, Burke, 
Frank and Hugh.) 

Frank (startled). What’s that ? 

Burke (gruffly—indicating photographer, l.). The gentleman’s 
took your picture. 

Frank. What for ? 

Burke. For the newspapers. (He drops Ann’s arm, turns and 
motions for Hugh to exit.) 

(Hugh exits up r.c.) 

(Burke goes up to the Officer in the doorway, pantomimes to the 
Officer to go and get other people, off l.) 

(Officer exits up r.c. and off to l.) 

Ann (on cue —“ for the newspapers ”). Oh, no —no ! 


'THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


17 


(Frank, on cue —“ for the newspapers ,” shakes himself loose from 
Burke’s grasp and goes front of table to Photographer l., speaking 
as he crosses.) 

Frank. Well, of all the nerve! (r. of the Photographer.) 
Look here, son, you can’t do that! 

(Burke steps out of doorway up r.c. and remains just out of sight off 

up R.C.) 

Photographer (putting flashlight in R.-hand pocket of coat). It’s 
done ! (Closes his camera.) 

Frank. You’ve no right to print my picture in this place ! 
Photographer. I have a right to print your picture in any 
place you happen to be in; that’s what I’m paid for ! 

Frank (after a quick glance up r., quietly). Supposing you were 
paid not to print it ? 

Photographer. I don’t get you ! 

Frank (another glance up r.c., to assure himself that Burke is 
out of sight—takes a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket). You’re 
not paid for getting me—particularly. (Holds bill in front of him 
in sight of the Photographer.) I’ll give you a hundred dollars for 
that negative. 

Photographer (smiles and instantly snaps the plate out of the 
camera and gives it to Frank). There’s your negative. 

(Noise of people being arrested, off l.) 

Frank (takes negative, and holds out bill to Photographer). 
There’s your hundred ! 

(Photographer takes bill, flicks flashlight powder off his shoulder 
with the bill and then puts it in his pocket. Crosses to door up r.c. 
and exits—crossing Burke in the doorway. Frank crosses front 
of table to couch down r. and takes up Ann’s wrap. Puts negative 
in his pocket as he crosses. A group of other witnesses in custody 
make considerable noise off up r., women's voices predominating. 
Crossing from l. to r. along passage.) 

Burke (appears in doorway up r.c. as Frank crosses to couch). 
The parade’s started ! Fall in ! 

Frank. All right! (Quite gently putting her wrap around Ann.) 
I’m sorry for this, Ann. 

Ann (all the pent-up emotion of her struggle and her silence finding 
vent). You’re sorry ! And oh, my God, I’m glad ! 

Burke (in doorway up r.c.). Come on! 

(They start up to the door — Ann first, followed by Frank — as the 
Curtain falls.) 

Curtain call: Ann—Frank—Hugh. 

Average time of Prologue—seventeen minutes. 

* 


B 


ACT I 


Scene. —Below window l. an oval gate-legged table, upon which is a 
telephone, some magazines, and fashion boohs, such as “ Vogue,” 
etc., a bowl of flowers, and a wicker work-basket, r. of table is a 
low arm-chair, l. of arch up l. is a pedestal and bust. Below 
window under arch l. is a wooden form. On window-sill l. are 
pots of flowers. On window-sill on first landing of stairs are pots 
of flowers. On each of the two lower panels of wall, second flight 
of stairs, is a picture. Over bannister on top landing of stairs is 
hung a tapestry. Against wall r. of stairs is a high-back caned 
arm-chair. Under arch R. is a spinning wheel, r. of which is a 
wooden arm-chair, upon which is a newspaper. Window-sill under 
arch r. with pots of flowers. Upon mantelshelf over fireplace R. 
four china ornaments and electric lamp and a vase of flowers. Above 
mantelshelf is a large picture. In front of fireplace, facing it, is a 
Chesterfield with cushions. Flush up is a desk, upon shelf of 
which is a tobacco-jar, china ornament, small clock and an electric 
practical lamp. On desk is a pink silk paper-rack, containing note- 
paper and envelopes, a pink silk blotter, ink-pot, quills, two letters, 
sheaf of bills, book-ends containing a few books, pipe, ash-tray and 
matches. Under desk is a paper basket, l. of desk is a wooden 
arm-chair, c. of stage, across foot of stairs, is a long narrow red 
rug. Stairs brown felted, with stair rods. 

Time. —It is shortly after five o’clock on a hot Saturday afternoon in 
September, jive years after the time of the Prologue. 

(At rise, from outside the window l. enters Alan Churchill, a 
nice boy of twenty-one or twenty-two. He is dressed for tennis, 
and carries a racket. Mrs. Regan, who was Ann Hunniwell, 
enters up r. on the balcony. She carries two or three small books. 
Alan enters l. when curtain is right up, comes to the foot of the 
stairs up l.c. and calls.) 

Alan. Helen! Helen! (Sees Ann.) 

(Ann enters up r. on balcony.) 

Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Regan. 

Ann (coming down the stairway). Hello, Alan! Finished 
already ? 


18 





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Act I of “The Sign on the Door 




















































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Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


19 


Alan. Yes . . . finished before I began! Where’s Helen ? 

Ann. Upstairs with Marjorie. Why ? 

Alan (drops down to back of arm-chair r. of table l.). Oh, nothing 
. . . except that she’s supposed to be playing tennis with me ! 

Ann (r.c.). It’s pretty hot for tennis. ( Crosses to table r. and 
places books in book-ends as she speaks. Sits.) 

Alan. When Helen’s with me it’s cool enough for skating ! 
(Sits on arm of chair l .) 

Ann. Why, I thought you and Helen . . . 

Alan. I thought Helen and I were engaged to be married, but 
it appears we weren’t even engaged to play tennis ! Helen’s lost 
her taste for me ! 

Ann. Nonsense ! She’s had a busy week since Marjorie’s been 
out. They’re telephoning now to Marjorie’s mother to see if 
Marjorie can stay over the week-end. 

Alan (miserably). That’ll be nice ! I say, Mrs. Regan, you 
think I’d make a good husband, don’t you ? 

Ann. I think it’s a little early to tell. 

Alan. Meaning . . . I’m young ? 

Ann. Meaning that husbands and motor-cars are all good the 
first year. It’s taken me three years to know half the goodness of 
my husband. 

Alan. I wonder if you’d use your influence ? 

Ann. A modern mother’s influence with a modern daughter ! 
And Helen isn't my daughter. She’s Lafe’s, and to tell you the 
truth, Alan, I think she resents me a little. 

Alan. Oh, I don’t think that, Mrs. Regan. 

Ann. Yes, I’m sure she does. (A pause.) Why don’t you 
speak to her, yourself ? 

Alan. I did . . . and it was all right. Then something hap¬ 
pened ... or some one. (Rising.) I tell you, Mrs. Regan, there 
are too many men in the world ! Who was that guy in the Bible 
who wanted to kill all the boys ? 

Ann. You mean Herod ? 

Alan (with a comic gesture of assent). Well, I’m for him! (Sits 
in arm-chair.) 

(Both laugh.) 

Marjorie (off). Oh, I think it’ll be loads of fun. 

Helen (off). I’m not sure I can go. 

Marjorie (off). Nonsense ! They’ll be glad to be rid of us. 

(Enter from up r. on the balcony and down the stairs , Helen Regan, 

followed by Marjorie Blake. Helen is twenty , pretty , rebellious , 

and makes what, for her age, is an oddly strong physical appeal. 

Marjorie is of the same age but lighter in character . Alan rises 

and goes to meet Helen.) 


20 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act I. 

Helen. Well, come along, here she is; let’s go and ask. 

(Helen down to Ann, in chair r. Marjorie to second step on L.- 

hand rail.) 

Helen (as she enters — off-handed). Hello, Alan! 

Alan (c.). Oh, hello ! 

Helen ( from the stairs — to Ann). Hasn’t father come ? 

Ann (in arm-chair r.). Not yet. 

Helen. He’s late! 

Alan (l. of Helen, with righteous indignation). Speaking of 
being late ! . . . 

Helen (paying no attention to him — she crosses to Ann). Marjorie’s 
mother wants me to come in for dinner and the theatre. I told 
her I’d ask father. 

Marjorie (at foot of stairs). You told her you’d come'! 

Alan (l. of Helen). You told me you’d come out and play 
tennis ! 

Helen (turns to Alan — impatiently). Oh, Alan, be quiet! 
(Turns her back on him.) I wonder if father’ll object ? 

Ann. He’ll be here soon. You won’t have to wait long. 

Alan. I waited on that hot court. 

Helen (turns impatiently to Alan). If it was too hot to wait 
it was too hot to play tennis ! Anyway, it wasn’t an engagement. 
I said I’d come if I could. 

Marjorie (comes down l. of Alan). Want to play tennis with 
me, Alan ? 

Alan. No, thanks ! 

(Marjorie drops down stage c.) 

I’m through with women for ever ! (He strikes to the window l. 
behind Marjorie.) 

Marjorie. Goodness ! These men ! 

Alan (turns at window l.). Helen, if you want me I’ll be waiting 
on the court. 

(Exits, window l.) 

(Marjorie goes to stairs.) 

Ann. Helen, what’s wrong with you and Alan ? He’s such a 
nice boy. 

Helen. Yes, he’s such a nice boy. That’s what’s wrong! 

(From the hallway up l. enters Lafe Regan. He is a tall, raw-boned 
man of forty, with a clean-cut, determined face. From his skin in, 
he is still a cattle-man ; outwardly he has acquired the graces of 
New York. He has cold, grey eyes, but they light up at the sight 
of Ann.) 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


21 


{The following scene has the effect of being 'played ad libitum, the cues 
overlap and one character speaks through the lines of the other.) 

Lafe {as he enters — to Marjorie, at foot of stairs). Well, Mar¬ 
jorie ! 

Helen {turns and sees him as he enters — goes quickly to meet him 
up c.) Here’s father ! 

Marjorie {acknowledging his greeting). Mr. Regan ! 

Ann. Lafe! {Rising.) 

Lafe. And Helen! 

{They embrace; he kisses her. She takes his hat, and as he goes to 
Ann, she crosses to table l. and puts down hat.) 

Hello, Ann! 

{Goes to her. They meet l. of the arm-chair r. He puts his arms around 
her and kisses her. He is tired and worried but, even so, the embrace 
is full of feeling.) 

Helen (as she crosses to the table l.). This is a nice time to come 
home Saturday afternoon ! 

Ann {after the embrace). Yes, Lafe, you’re late! 

Lafe {quietly — in contrast to the warmth of his greeting). Yes, I 
know, dear. 

Helen (goes to l. of Lafe). Father, there is something I want 
to ask . . . 

Lafe. You girls run upstairs ! I want to talk to your mother ! 
Helen (insistently). But it’s very important. Please ? 

Lafe (gently, but firmly). After a while. 

(They hesitate—then start up the stairs.) 

Ann. What is it, Lafe ? 

Lafe. Nothing . . . except that you were right about Frank 
Devereaux! 

(Helen and Marjorie stop on the stairs and look at Lafe.) 

Ann (c.r., startled). About . . . Mr. Devereaux? 

Lafe. When I brought him home two weeks ago you said he 
was no good. He isn’t. He’s a damned scoundrel! 

Helen (coming quickly down to c.l. of Lafe). Father, I don’t 
think you ought . . . 

Ann. Helen! 

Lafe (firmly). I told you to go upstairs ! 

Helen. Yes, I know; but you were talking about . . . 
Lafe. Frank Devereaux . . . and that has nothing to do with 
you. 

Helen. Mr. Devereaux’s been here . . . several times . . . and 
I don’t think it’s very nice of you. ... 


22 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act I. 

Lafe (puts his hands on Helen’s shoulders). It isn’t nice for a 
girl of your age to discuss these things ! 

Marjorie (on the first landing of the stairs). Oh, if it’s that, I 
think it makes him all the more fascinating. 

(Lafe laughs, crosses l. to front of chair R. of table l.) 

Ann (intervening, coming c.r. of Helen). Wait, Lafe. Marjorie 
wants Helen to go in for dinner and the theatre. 

Lafe. No ! 

Helen (crossing to him). Oh, please, father; it’s John Barry¬ 
more ! 

Marjorie (on stairs). He’s too sweet! Don’t you think so, Mr. 
Regan ? 

Lafe (below arm-chair r. of table l.). You’ve too much of that 
stuff in your head now ! 

(Helen looks appealingly at Ann.) 

Ann. Lafe, let them go, then we can have the evening alone. 
Lafe (after an instant). All right ... if you’ll run along! 

(Ann turns up stage to foot of the stairs.) 

Helen. Thank you ! 

(Lafe crosses front to table r., sits, as Helen moves up to the stairs.) 

Marjorie (on the stairs). Come on, Helen ! I’ll get my things 
together, and you put a dress in your bag ! 

(They go up the steps.) 

Ann (at foot of steps—calling after them). Helen, you’d better 
take your pink frock ! 

Helen (calling back as she moves along the balcony, following 
Marjorie). All right; I will! 

Ann. And your slippers. 

Marjorie. Hurry up ! Mother’s sending the car ! 

(She exits off up r. at end of balcony.) 

Ann. And don’t forget your cloak. 

Helen. All right. 

(She exits off up r. at end of balcony.) 

(Lafe gets tobacco jar, puts it on the blotter, sits and commences to fill 
his pipe. Ann comes down to l. of Lafe.) 

Ann. Now . . . what about Mr. Devereaux ? 

Lafe (his back to Ann). You remember I met him at the Club ? 
Ann. Yes. 

Lafe. I didn’t know much about him, but I liked him. Just 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


23 


back from France. Got a medal there, or something. Seemed like 
a fine fellow, and I brought him home. 

Ann. Well ? 

Lafe (turning to face Ann). Well . . . you didn't like him. 

Ann. No. 

Lafe. When he first came in you acted very peculiarly. 

Ann. I’d met him before. 

Lafe. So you said. Years ago. And you asked me not to 
have him here again. Why ? 

Ann ( hesitates , as though about to tell him the truth). I didn’t 
like him. 

Lafe. Any special reason ? 

Ann. What is it, Lafe ? What have you heard ? 

Lafe. Enough to make me wonder for a minute if it was just 
instinct that made you warn me against Devereaux. 

Ann. Lafe, for Heaven’s sake, get down to the point. 

Lafe. I’ve just heard a rotten story about this fellow, and a 
married woman. 

Ann (with an effort). Who ? 

Lafe. The wife of my best friend. 

Ann. Colonel Gaunt ? 

Lafe. Yes. 

(A pause. Ann is vastly relieved.) 

Ann. Where did you hear it ? 

Lafe. At the Club. 

Ann. From whom ? 

Lafe. From ... a man who knows. Gaunt met this rat in 
France. Fell for him . . . like I did. Gave him a letter of intro¬ 
duction to his wife. Somebody gave the tip to Gaunt and he’s 
sailed for home in the Aquitania. 

Ann (l. of arm-chair r.). Maybe it’s not true. 

Lafe. Just one chance in a hundred. Gaunt wrote me he was 
sailing. Personal business, he said, and he’d need every ounce of 
my friendship. I thought it was money. The boat’s due to-morrow, 
and it’s going to be pretty hot for Mr. Devereaux. 

Ann (worried). Lafe, you’d better keep out of this. 

Lafe. Out of my friend’s trouble ? 

Ann. Out of trouble with Mr. Devereaux. 

Lafe. Why ? 

Ann. It won’t help you, to get into a row. 

Lafe. Oh, I don’t know! But there won’t be a row, because 
that would hurt Gaunt. He’s being talked about for Governor. 
We’ve got to remember that. 

Axis (relieved again). Yes. (Away from him a little to c.) 

Lafe. Pretty tough on poor old Gaunt: fighting his way to 
the top, and having this happen. 

m ° 


24 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


Ann. I’m sorry for the woman. 

Lafe. I’m not ! Not the kind of woman who could do 
that ! 

Ann. That’s the kind of woman I’m sorry for. 

Lafe. Husband in France ! 

Ann. And wife miserably lonely ! 

Lafe. They always are ! That kind ! If the husband isn’t in 
France, he’s paying attention to business . . . which makes it right 
for the first horse-thief whose only business is paying attention to 
wives ! ( Puts pipe down on desk, turning in his chair.) 

(Ann turns to him.) 

You were good and lonely when you met me, but you were good 
and lonely. 

Ann {going to him, taking his left hand and holding it 'against her 
chest). Supposing I hadn’t met you ? Supposing the man who 
advertised for a stenographer hadn’t been you, but a married man ? 
And suppose I’d gone to his house, as I came here, and learned to 
care, as we learned ? 

Lafe. You’d ’ve quit and gone home. There’s only two kinds 
of cattle, Ann . . . good cattle and bad cattle. We don’t say : 
“ She’s got the epizootic, but she’s a good cow.” We ... let her 
go!” 

Ann ( letting his hand go). Lafe ! 

Lafe. For the good of the herd. 

Ann {crosses round him to below settee r. and sits on end of it). 
But you’re talking about cattle ! 

Lafe. I’m not thinking about cattle. {He speaks with strong 
emotion—quite calmly, but evidently holding himself in.) 

Ann. What are you thinking about, Lafe ? 

Lafe. One time—a good many years ago—out West—when 
Gaunt helped me. 

Ann. About—Helen’s mother ? 

Lafe. Yes. When she left me—alone—with the baby. After¬ 
ward, you know, she wrote me to forgive her. 

Ann. And you ? 

Lafe. I’ve told you—I don’t forgive. But, when she died, 
Gaunt and I went on and found the man. (Pause.) He owes his 
life to Gaunt. Now you know why I feel the way I do. That’s 
all. (Rises and goes to back of chair — cheerful tone.) Well, anyway, 
you get your wish; I think we’re through with Mr. Devereaux. 
(Picks up some letters and looks at them.) 

Ann (softly—looking front). I wonder ! 

Lafe. You needn’t. He called me up this afternoon, about 
coming out, and I told him I was staying in New York. 

(Enter the Butler from hallway up l.) 


Act I.] THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 25 

Butler (up l. by foot of stairs—announces ). Mr. Devereaux ! 
(Ann rises.) 

Lafe (up r.c.). We’re not at home. 

Butler. Beg pardon, sir, but he saw you through the window. 
Lafe (quietly but firmly). We’re not at home! 

(Butler turns at once to go l.u.e.) 

Ann (l. of arm-chair r.). One minute, Bates. (Crossing to l .of 
Lafe.) 

(Butler stops.) 

Lafe, you can’t do that. Show Mr. Devereaux in. 

(Butler exits l.u.) 

(Turns to Lafe.) You can’t refuse to see him without any reason. 
Besides, you said there was one chance in a hundred. 

Lafe (up r.c.). I won’t have him coming here ! 

Ann (placing her hand over his mouth). I think you can leave 
that to me. 

(Lafe moves down r. between the fire-screen and the davenport to 
below the table r. Enter Butler, l.u.) 

Butler (announces). Mr. Devereaux ! 

(Enter Frank Devereaux. He is not in uniform , and is Jive years 
older, l.c.) 

Frank. How do you do, Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann (to Frank). How do you do ? 

Frank (coming down l. of Ann. Warmly to Regan). Hullo, 
Regan ? I thought you weren’t coming out, this afternoon. 

Lafe (below settee r.). I changed my plans. You don’t seem 
to have changed yours ! 

Frank (surprised, but not disconcerted). No. I was motoring to 
Greenwich. Thought I’d look in for a handshake and a drink! 

Ann (to Butler, who has gone under arch r.u. and picked up news¬ 
paper which has been lying on arm-chair). Bates I 

(Butler steps forward.) 

Frank. Especially since this is good-bye. 

Ann. Good-bye ? You’re going away ? 

Frank. Immediately. Almost without seeing you. May I have 
a dry Martini ? 

Ann. Yes ! And you, Lafe ? 

Lafe. I won’t drink. 

Ann (to Butler). I’ll have some mineral water. 

IThe Butler exits r.u. to pantry , taking newspaper with him,.) 


20 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[ACT I. 


Frank. Oh, yes, I remember ; yon don’t take anything. ( Cross¬ 
ing to below chair R. of table l. and putting his hat on table.) 

(Lafe notes this speech.) 

Ann (silence for an instant — then). Won’t you sit down ? 
Frank. Thank you. (He sits in arm-chair R. of table l.) 

(She sits in arm-chair l. of desk r. An awkward pause — then.) 

Ann. When are you going ? 

Frank. I don’t know. 

Ann. Where ? 

Frank. I don’t know that, either. My man’s looking up a 
boat for the Orient. I want to leave Monday or Tuesday for San 
Francisco. Does that surprise you, Regan ? 

Lafe. Not very much. 

Frank. Really ? 

Lafe. I heard something to-day that made me think you might 
go. 

Ann (to Lafe). Mr. Devereaux doesn’t stay anywhere long. 

(Enter Butler r.u. with tray. On tray: glass of mineral water 
and cocktail. He comes to l. of Ann, and she takes the glass of 
water. He goes to Frank, who takes cocktail from tray.) 

Frank. No, I never saw any use for settling down. A rolling 
stone gathers no moss, but, if you have the moss, why not roll ? 
(Smiles broadly as he takes cocktail.) 

Lafe. You must, I suppose, if you’re not square. 

(Ann puts down glass on desk r.c. with a bang.) 

(The two men look at each other , comprehending perfectly.) 

Frank (very deliberately). I don’t understand exactly what you 
mean. 

Ann. Does it matter . . . (turns to Frank — sweetly) . . . since 
you’re going away ? My husband says you’ve collected so many 
interesting things, Mr. Devereaux. What do you do with them 
when you travel ? 

Frank. Oh, I have my rooms by the year. 

Ann. Oh ! I thought you lived at the Ritz. 

Frank. So I do. Oh, but not the hotel . . . not the Ritz- 
Carlton. It’s a little apartment-hotel in the East Forty-fifth Street. 
The Ritz Apartments. 

Ann. Rather confusing. 

Frank. Yes, I dare say, but there are three Ritz Cafes, and a 
Ritz-Carlton Court in Harlem; but, after all, what’s in a name ? 
President Wilson can’t complain because there’s a Wilson whisky, 
can he ? (He drinks—there is another short silence — puts glass down 
on table.) 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


27 


Ann. No. (Long jpause.) I suppose not. (She is about out of 
manufactured conversation. The silence becomes embarrassing.) 

(A pause.) 

Lafe (crosses in front of Ann to foot of stairs) . I’m going to dress 
for dinner. 

Frank (rises — Ann rises). Don’t let me detain you. I’m iust 
going. 

Lafe (i coolly, to Frank). I shan’t see you again. 

(Neither offers to shake hands — Frank takes hat , turns away.) 

(Quietly to Ann.) When you’re at liberty, I -want to talk to you a 
moment. (He starts up the stairs, tarrying for the next speech.) 

Frank (offers his hand — Ann takes it). Good-bye, Mrs. Regan. 
Ann (shakes hands with him). Good-bye. 

(Lafe, satisfied, starts off up r. on balcony.) 

Frank. Thank you. (Keeping his eye on Lafe as he goes up 
to arch up l. and passes out into the hallway.) 

(Ann goes to the stairway and starts up a step or two. Frank, satisfied 
that Lafe is gone, comes quickly back to l. of the stairway.) 

Oh, by the way, what’s the matter with your husband ? 

Ann (on stairway). I think you know. 

Frank (leaning on the balustrade). Been listening to military 
gossip ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Frank. Not very trustworthy. The merest acquaintance with 
this lady, and even that's over now. 

Ann. I’m sure of it. 

Frank. And my going away will save you the trouble of 
asking me not to call again, won’t it ? 

Ann. It would have been no trouble. 

Frank. You never can tell. 

Ann. What do you mean ? 

Frank. Only that I’m sure you want to show me the same 
consideration that I’ve shown you. 

Ann. Is that a threat ? 

Frank. Certainly not. 

Ann. If you’d been considerate, you wouldn’t have come here 
at all. 

Frank. My dear lady ... I’d no idea that you were Mrs. 
Regan, when Lafe brought me here ! I hadn’t seen you since—I 
hadn’t seen you since the day we jumped our bail! 

Ann (with a quick, nervous look toward up r. on balcony). Please ! 
Frank. Then I learned that you’d left the office. . . . (His eyes 
twinkling.) Are you still reading Stevenson ? Oh, I beg your 


28 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


pardon ! It was 0. Henry, wasn’t it ? ( Moves a little toward window 

l. — smiling broadly as he enjoys her discomfort — indicating window l.) 
Will you let me go out this way ? 

Ann {firmly ). With pleasure. 

Frank {grins). You’re too good ! You always were ! 

{He exits window l. Ann watches him off — shakes her head in pity, 
then goes up the stairs, and exits up r. on balcony.) 

{The stage is vacant for an instant, then the Butler enters r.u., with 
tray, gets glass from desk r., then goes to below table l., takes Frank’s 
glass, takes Lafe’s hat, and crossing, exits r.u. As Butler crosses 
with tray, Helen enters up r. on balcony and comes down the stairs. 
She looks back as though fearful of being seen. Almost immediately 
Frank re-enters window, l.) 

Frank {enters window l., puts hat down on table l.). * Helen! 
Helen {after looking around, into his arms). Frank ! {Kiss.) 

(Frank’s arms about her.) 

You wouldn’t have gone away without seeing me ? 

Frank. Why do you suppose I came ? 

Helen. I heard your voice, but I didn’t dare come down, so 
I waited at the window. 

Frank. I looked up and saw your signal. {Releases her — a 
slight start toward window L.) Come down to the arbour ! We can’t 
talk here ! 

Helen. I can’t. I’m going to New York. 

Frank. When ? 

Helen. In a few minutes. 

Frank. Come in my car. 

Helen. I’m going with Marjorie Blake. 

Frank. Slip away and have dinner with me ! 

Helen. I’d love to ! {A pause.) I can’t! 

Frank. Why not ? 

Helen. It wouldn’t be right! 

Frank. Anything’s right that isn’t found out! {He takes her 
in his arms.) We can’t go on like this . . . only a hurried word 
now and again. I love you too much. 

Helen. I don’t see how you can ; a wonderful man like you . . . 
with all you’ve seen and known. 

Frank. I love you because you’re young and sweet ... I love 
you because you are beautiful. I love you! I want you! And 
I want to think of you in my arms . . . learning what a wonderful 
thing love is ! 

Helen {pushing him away) . Don’t! {Glances up at r. on balcony.) 
Father ! 

Frank. You see how impossible it is. You must come with 
me. 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


29 


Helen (watching the stairs). Where ? 

Frank. Anywhere . . . with me! 

Helen. Some time,. . . maybe. 

Frank. No ! It must be now ! I’m going away ! 

Helen (appalled). For long ? 

Frank. For good! And I want to take you with me! 
Helen. Frank, I can’t! I can’t! 

Frank. You must! Tell me you will! 

Helen. It isn’t fair. 

Frank. Listen. (Going to her and taking her in his arms.) I 
love you. Come to me ! 

Helen. Father’ll never forgive. . . . 

Frank. What does that matter ? What does anything matter, 
except this ? I love you ! I love you ! Come to me ? 

Helen. Yes ! How ? 

Frank. You’re .dining with the Blakes ? 

Helen. Yes. 

Frank. And . . . you can trust Marjorie '! 

Helen. Oh, yes. 

Frank. You tell Marjorie you’ve an appointment with me, and 
get her to tell her mother that you couldn’t come. 

Helen. Suppose her mother telephones here ? 

Frank. She won’t! You slip away from Marjorie, and take a 
taxi to my apartments in East Forty-fifth Street. The Ritz Apart¬ 
ments. You understand ? (Releasing her and holding her right hand.) 
Helen. Yes. 

Frank. I’ll be waiting dinner for you at eight! (He hesitates.) 
And, Helen, you tell your father that— (not waiting for her “ Yes ”— 
significantly) —you won’t be home to-night. 

Helen (quietly — breathlessly). Frank ! I can’t! 

Frank. You must! I’m going away. If you love me, you’ll 
come to me. 

(Helen, giving in , goes to him slowly. Frank kisses her and looks 
up to find himself face to face with Ann, who enters up r. on the 
balcony and stands for an instant watching them. Helen moves 
away to l. of the table r. A long pause while Ann crosses the balcony 
and comes down the stairs.) 

Ann (on first landing — with cold rage). You leave this house ! 
Frank (coolly). In one moment. 

Ann. Now ! 

Frank. When I’m quite sure you won’t mention this to anyone. 
Ann. If you don’t go, I’ll mention it this instant to my husband ! 

(A slight movement toward up R. on balcony.) 

Frank. I’m staying to suggest that I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. 
Regan ! 


30 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


Ann. Why not ? 

Frank. Because, if you do, I shall have to have a little talk 
with your husband ! 

Ann ( down to third stair). Oh, so you were threatening ! 

Frank. Self-preservation is the first law of Nature. 

Ann (on third stair , about to call). Lafe ! (When Frank 
intervenes.) 

Frank. I wouldn’t . . . Mrs. Regan ! 

Ann. You can say nothing that my husband will believe. 

Frank. You didn’t seem sure of that a little while ago when 
we were reminiscing. You seemed rather afraid of being overheard. 

Ann (looking at Helen and coming down on stage). There’s some¬ 
thing I’m more afraid of now. 

Frank. Why ? I’m going away ! In a day or two I’ll be gone ! 
Will it do any good to have her father know ? 

Helen (impulsively). I don’t care what he knows ! 

Ann. Helen ! 

Helen (not waiting for Ann’s exclamation). I love Frank, and 
we’re going to be married, and you’ve no right to interfere ! 

Ann. You force me to interfere ! You force me to send for 
your father ! (She goes up a step and calls.) Lafe ! 

(Frank looks at Helen, his glance bidding her keep quiet and meet 
him as agreed. Helen faces Ann during ensuing scene.) 

Lafe (off up r. on balcony). Yes ? 

Ann. Will you come down here ? 

Lafe (as before). Just a moment! 

Helen (defiantly). All right ! I’m satisfied to have it out 
now! 

Ann. I’m glad ! Mr. Devereaux has something to tell your 
father ! So have I! Something I should have told him long ago ! 
When I’m finished I think you’ll be safe from Mr. Devereaux! 

Frank. What about you ? 

Ann. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. 

Frank (indicating Helen). And what about Helen ? 

Ann. Neither has Helen ! Nothing her father can’t understand 
and forgive ! If you thought you could frighten me into standing 
by while you ruined the life of this little girl. . . . Mr. Devereaux, 
you were wrong ! 

Frank (c. to Ann — after a slight pause). Then— if I go away, 
you promise not to mention this to any one. 

Ann. If you promise not to see Helen again. 

Frank (after a slight pause). All right. (To table l. for hat.) 

Helen (crosses in front of Ann to Frank —in protest). But, 
Frank . . . 

Ann. Helen! 

Frank (takes his hat from table). It isn’t worth while making a 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


31 

fuss. ( With veiled significance.) You understand, don’t you ? (A 
pause.) Say you understand. 

Helen (inclines her head). Yes. 

Frank (presses her hand—drops it and turns to window L. to Ann). 
Well, I’m off to Greenwich . . . and points East! 

(Exits quickly through window l.) 

(Helen stands looking after him.) 

Ann (goes to Helen). Helen ! 

(Helen moves away l. a step. Ann puts hand on her shoulder—very 
gently. No move from Helen.) 

My little daughter ! 

Helen (turning with sudden fury). I’m not your daughter! 
Ann. If you didn’t tell me, I shouldn’t know ! 

Helen (crosses to l. of table r.). How dared you behave like that 
to Frank ? 

Ann (coming c.). How dared he behave like that to you ? 
Helen. We’re going to be married ! 

Ann. Has he asked you to marry him ? Did he ever ask you ? 
If he wanted to marry you, why didn’t he behave like a man, and 
speak to your father ? 

Helen. Because he knew he’d have you against him! Don’t 
you suppose I know why you’re against him . . . why you don’t 
want him to marry me ? 

Ann. Why ? 

Helen. Because you care for him, yourself! Because there’s 
been something between you. 

Ann (through Helen’s speech). Helen— my dear ! 

Helen. Mr. Devereaux was too fine to tell father, but I’m not ! 
You sent for father to have it out, and we’ll have it out! Then 
I’m going to him ! I’m no fool! I heard what you said ... 

(Lafe enters up r. on balcony.) 

and I know you’re in love with Mr. Devereaux! 

(As he comes down the stairs Lafe hesitates for an instant and registers 
what he has overheard. Ann, realizing Lafe’s presence, moves to 
the arm-chair r. of table l. and faces it. Helen looks away r.) 

Ann. Helen! 

Lafe (in dinner-jacket—coming down the stairs). Sorry to have 
been so long. I was just changing. (To c., looks at Ann and Helen.) 
What’s wrong ? 

Ann (gently). Helen has something to tell you. 

Lafe (turns to Helen). Well ? 

(Helen does not move.) 


o 


tAcT 1 . 


& THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 

You want to tell me something, Helen ? 

Helen ( over l. of desk r.). I just want to tell mother I’m— 
sorry! 

Ann. Oh, my dear ! (Going L.c.) 

Lafe (with masculine impatience of a scene). What’s it all about ? 
Ann. Helen thinks I’ve been rude to Mr. Devereaux. 

Lafe. Impossible ! It can’t be done ! (c. with menace.) And, 

Helen ! (Grossing to her.) 

(Ann comes back to front of chair r. of table l.) 

Helen (turns to him). Yes, father ? 

Lafe. This is the second time to-day you’ve stood up for that 
skunk! 

(Helen winces.) 

I don’t want to hear of it again ! 

Helen. Father, you’ve no right to ! . . . 

Lafe (going to her and taking her by the shoulders). If I thought 
a girl of mine could have anything to do with a man like that . . . 
well, she couldn't be a girl of mine ! 

(Re says it with tremendous sincerity and it registers upon both 
women. Ann sinks in arm-chair r. of table l.) 

That’s all. (He releases Helen and goes below settee r.) 

(Marjorie enters up r. on the balcony and comes running down the 
stairs, with Helen’s cloak and hat.) 

Marjorie (as she enters and comes down). Helen, where’ve you 
been ? 

Helen (crosses up). Right here. (r. of Marjorie.) 

Marjorie (coming down the stairs). It’s almost time for the car. 
Lafe (turns to face Marjorie). The car ? 

Marjorie (as she comes down to foot of stairs. Gives cloak and hat 
to Helen). Our car. Mother’s sending it. Isn’t she a lamb ? 

Lafe (down r.c.). There was no need of that. Anyway, Norris ’ll 
go in for you. 

Helen (steps forward to c.). Oh, father, couldn’t I—couldn’t I 
stay all night ? 

Ann (in armchair r. of table l. —with sudden, vague alarm). Helen 
— this is a new idea ! (Gently — the alarm gone.) I think you’d 
better come home. 

Marjorie (comes down l. of stairs bannister). Please, Mrs. Regan ! 
I’ve been here all the week. We’ll send her home in the morning. 

Lafe. Oh, let her stay, Ann. It’ll take her that long to get 
over John Barrymore ! 

(Ann is still troubled, without knowing why.) 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


33 


Helen (moving over to Ann in front of Marjorie, hand in Ann’s). 
Please let me stay! 

Marjorie (coming r. of Helen). Please, Mrs. Regan! 

Helen. Please! (To Ann.) 

Ann (assenting). Well, just this once. 

(Marjorie crosses to c. Helen goes to window l. and stands looking 
out into the garden, deep in thought.) 

Marjorie. I know what’s the matter with you—you’re jealous ! 
Lafe. Always have been—of John Barrymore. ’Specially in 
green tights ! Awful handicap—just plain pants. (Indicating his 
trousers.) 

Marjorie. Goodness ! These men ! 

Helen (behind Ann at upper end window l., to Marjorie). Mar¬ 
jorie, come on out in the garden. 

Marjorie (over her shoulder to Helen). The garden ? 

Helen (her manner making clear to Marjorie that she wants to 
speak to her). Just while we’re waiting for the car ! 

(She exits window, l.) 

Marjorie. All right! (Turns to Lafe.) And don’t you be 
jealous, Mr. Regan! Actors are very pleasant to look at, but 
you’re ever so much nicer in the home ! 

Helen (entering window l., impatiently). Come on, Marjorie! 
I want to tell you something ! 

Marjorie (as she goes quickly to Helen). Yes, dear, I’m coming, 
right away ! 

(She exits, window l., her arm about Helen.) 

(Off L.) My goodness ! What is it you wanted to tell me ? 

(Their voices die out ad libitum. An instant of silence. Lafe is 
deep in thought. Ann rises, goes to French windows, looking off 

L.) 

Lafe (as he crosses to c.). Oh—just a moment, Ann. I’ve been 
thinking over our conversation. 

Ann. About—Helen ? 

Lafe. About Devereaux. 

Ann (turns a step towards him). Oh! 

Lafe. When Devereaux dined here we had cocktails and hock- 
cup. You had some, didn’t you ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Lafe (quizzically). Then why did he say : “ I remember ; you 
don’t take anything ” ? 

Ann {by foot of stairs). Because, I suppose, he didn’t remember. 
Lafe. You hadn’t been in the habit of going about with him. 
Ann. Of course not. 


34 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


Lafe. How well did you know Devereaux ? 

Ann. I was in his father’s office. Why ? 

Lafe. Well, it’s hard for me to understand how any man as 
—busy —as Devereaux could have overlooked you. 

Ann (goes to Lafe, c. — laughing , putting her hands on his shoulders). 
Lafe, I thought you were only jealous of John Barrymore. 

Lafe (his arms about her). I guess I’m a little jealous of you. 
Ann (more serious , but still quizzical). Of what happened before 
we met ? 

Lafe. Well, there are some things a man can’t forgive, no matter 
when they happen. 

Ann (pats his cheek). Oh, Lafe, don’t be ridiculous ! (She starts 
up the stairs.) 

Lafe (pleasantly). Wait a minute, Ann. What’s your hurry ? 
Ann (goes up to first landing). I want to dress for* dinner. 

Lafe (lounging on balustrade r. of stairs. Takes a glance at clock 
on desk R.). You’ve got a full hour. 

Ann. It takes me quite that! 

Lafe (r. side of stairs). Come on, Ann. Sit down for a minute. 
It isn’t often we’re alone. Come on, sit down. 

(Ann comes down stairs. She sits on arm of chair r. of table l., then, 
with a gesture that says: “ Well, here I am ,” she takes up one of 
the books and commences to look through it. There is a short silence.) 

How long —after I went upstairs—did Helen come down ? 

Ann (protecting Helen). Five minutes—maybe. (Looking at 
book.) 

Lafe. Then how did she know you were rude to Devereaux ? 
Ann. Lafe, what are you getting at ? 

Lafe. He was saying good-bye when I went up. Didn’t he 
go ? 

Ann. Of course he went. Helen was referring to something I 
told her. 

Lafe. Did you tell her you were in love with him ? (Continues 
rapidly.) And if you didn’t and she didn’t see you together, why 
did she say you were in love with him 1 
Ann. It’s pretty evident I’m not ? 

Lafe (with sureness). Of course, you’re not. (Questionably.) 
But what had you said to him ? 

Ann. I told him to leave the house. 

Lafe. Yes, but he was leaving! 

Ann. I told him not to come back. That’s what you wanted, 
wasn’t it ? 

Lafe. Yes ; but he couldn't come back. He was going away. 
That’s one reason you insisted upon my being polite. "Why this 
sudden upset ? (Severely. Crosses to her.) Was Devereaux making 
love to you ? 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


35 


Ann. Do you suppose I’d stand that ? 

Lafe. I know damned well / wouldn’t ! ( Going R.c.) 

Ann ('putting book back on table). Lafe, you don’t realize it, but 
you’re behaving like a suspicious boy. If I stay down here we’re 
going to quarrel. 

Lafe. And so % 

Ann (going up to l. of stairs l. of Lafe). I’m going upstairs ! 

Lafe (harshly). I’ve told you I want to talk to you ! (To r. of 
stairs.) 

Ann (at foot of stairs — desperately). And you’ve done nothing 
else but talk the whole afternoon— about one thing ! 

Lafe (angrily). There’s only one thing I care to talk about; 
one thing I want to know. 

Ann. And that is ? 

Lafe (furiously). I want to know how well you knew Devereaux ! 
And whether he’s been taking advantage of it! From the first day 
he came you’ve been afraid of him! You’re afraid now of our 
having words ! You wouldn’t let me forbid him the house, and 
then you do so—in a manner that arouses Helen ! (A slight pause.) 
What’s it all about ? That's what I want to know ! 

(Ready—telephone bell.) 

Ann (goes up two stairs). Then, Lafe, you’ll have to find out 
from some one else ! 

Lafe (up to r. of her). What do you mean ? 

Ann. I mean that I won’t stand your suspecting me, and I 
won’t answer another question ! 

Lafe. I don’t suspect you ! Good God, no ! But why these 
evasions—these subterfuges ? Why can’t you tell me the truth ? 

Ann. Because you make it impossible ! Five minutes ago I 
called you to tell you what happened with Devereaux. Before I 
could say a word, you began to cross-examine ; to remind me that 
you couldn’t understand or forgive ! 

Lafe. Forgive whom ? 

Ann (quickly). Forgive anyone who.’d been imprudent or silly ! 

Lafe (takes this up with) What ? 

Ann ( looking away—realizing her mistake—with quick alarm). Oh, 
I don’t mean myself ! 

Lafe. Then whom do you mean ? 

Ann. That’s for you to find out! (Turns r., goes up two more 
stairs.) 

(Lafe crosses to l. of stairs with a bound, at the same time getting his 

L. foot on third stair. Moves up with her and grips her left wrist 

with his left hand, preventing her from going up.) 

Lafe. When Devereaux came here this afternoon, believing I 
was not at home, whom did he come to see ? . . • 


36 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


(The telephone rings—one sharp ring. Ann makes another attempt 
to go up the stairs. Lafe holds her tightly by the wrist.) 

Answer my question ! When Devereaux came here this afternoon, 
whom did he come to see ? . . . 

(The telephone rings insistently until Lafe takes receiver from the 
hook. A pause —Lafe looks at the ’ phone—releases Ann’s arm — 
moves to r. of table l., and takes up 'phone.) 

(Into 'phone.) Hullo! Hullo! Hello, Gaunt! This is Regan. 
Thought your boat wasn’t due until to-morrow. When did you get 
in ? . . . I got your letter, and you can count on me all the way, 
and back ! Where are you now ? . . . You’d better pick up a 
car and come right out here. . . . Why not ? . . . Well, won’t 
that wait ? . . . You’d better see me first. . . . Yes, I do under¬ 
stand ... I know the whole story. That’s why you’d better see 
me. . . . What do you mean by “ settle accounts ” ? . . . I 
thought so, and that’s just what you mustn’t do. . . . You can’t 
afford to do that! Don’t be a damned fool! You’re a big man ! 
You don’t know how big, yourself ! We want you for Governor ! 
What’s the use of spoiling your chances for a rat like that ? . . . 
You forget that I do understand ! You forget that once you stopped 
me. . . . Now, wait a minute ! Don’t lose your head ! Will you 
stay where you are until I can get in ? . . . Never mind ! Will 
you sit down for half an hour and wait for me ? . . . Because I 
ask it I Because I’m your friend, and I’m thinking about you ! 
Will you promise not to do anything until you’ve talked to me ? . . . 
I’ll be with you in half an hour ! Give me your word not to do 
anything until then ? . . . Well, whether you give it or not, I’ll 
be with you in half an hour. . . . Yes , and for God’s sake—WAIT ! ! 
I’m starting now! Good-bye ! (Hangs up receiver , puts ’phone 
back on table, crosses to arch R.u. and calls.) Bates! Bates ! 

(Ann is standing on the stairs , her hand on the balustrade.) 
Butler (off stage , r.). Yes, sir ? 

Lafe. Get my overcoat and tell Norris to bring the car ! 

Ann (coming down on stage to r.c.). What was he going to do ? 
Lafe. Kill Devereaux. 

Ann. Oh! 

Lafe. I asked him to wait for me at the Club. He wouldn’t 
promise, but I think he’ll wait. I’m sorry to leave you. (Coming 
to her and taking her by the arms.) 

Ann. I understand, Lafe. 

Lafe. Can you understand now why I was worked up about 
Devereaux ? A crook who’d do—what he’s done to Gaunt—isn’t 
to be trusted in any man’s home ! 

Ann. Yes ; I understand. 

Lafe. You said I suspected you. I don’t. I believe in you as 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


37 


I believe in God. Only, for a minute, I thought maybe you were 
in trouble, and were afraid to let me help—see ? 

Ann (in his arms). I see, Lafe. 

Lafe. I know you, Ann. I know you— (he smiles) —and you 
can count on me — all the way and hack ! Is it all right, Ann ? 
Ann (tenderly). It’s all right, Lafe. 

(He kisses her—their arms about each other. Lafe moves over to 
cross below the arm-chair l. of the table r. and Ann crosses to below 
chair r. of table l. The Butler enters through window, L., succeeded 
by Helen and Marjorie.) 

Butler (as he enters—taking the kiss as a cue). All right, Miss 
Helen. 

Helen (as she enters. To above table l. To Butler). Bates, 
get our bags. Marjorie’s car’s here ! 

(Butler goes up stairs and exits up r. on balcony.) 
(Helen crosses to r. of stairs.) 

Marjorie (at upper l.c. by stairs). You can drive into town with 
us, Mr. Regan! 

Lafe. You won’t find me good company! 

Marjorie. Very well! You sit in front ! (Up two stairs.) 
Helen (up r. of the foot of the stairs). And we’ll drop you wherever 
you like. 

Lafe. All right! (Crosses up c. Turns to Ann.) That’ll leave 
Norris, if you happen to want him. 

(He goes up the stairs and waits on the first landing.) 

Ann. Say good-night to me, dear. 

Helen (hesitates an instant, then goes to Ann down l. ) . Good-night. 
I hope you won’t miss me ! 

Ann. Of course I’ll miss you, but I shall be thinking about you 
and hoping that you’re happy. (Puts her arms about Helen.) 
Helen (clinging to Ann, kisses her). Good-night . . . mother ! 

(Lafe, on the first landing, smiles at the reconciliation. The Butler 
enters up r. on balcony with two bags, and coat and soft hat belonging 
to Lafe.) 

Ann (holding Helen close). Darling! (Releases her.) Have a 
good time ! 

Lafe (to Butler). All right! 

(Takes coat and hat from Butler and puts them on, comes down to 
foot of stairs, followed by Butler.) 

Marjorie (coming down, l., shaking hands with Ann). Good-bye, 
Mrs. Regan. I’ve had a beautiful week, and we’ll send Helen back 
in the morning. 


38 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


Ann. Mind you do ! 

(Marjorie and Helen exit window , l.) 

Lafe (comes to r. of Ann and takes her in his arms). Don’t sit 
up for me. I may be late. See you in the morning ! Good-bye ! 
Ann. Lafe—take care of yourself. 

Lafe (kisses her). I should worry. 

(And moving above her , exits window l., followed by the Butler, who 
carries bags and coats.) 

(Outside window l.) Get in, girls ! 

Marjorie. Where shall we drop you ? 

Lafe. The Cosmopolitan Club. (To Chauffeur.) Know where 
that is ? 

Chauffeur (Butler takes line). Yes, sir. 

Lafe. As fast as you can make it ! (To Helen.) Get in, 
Helen ! 

(The slam of the limousine door is heard.) 

Don’t be lonely, Ann ! 

(Start motor effect.) 

Good-bye ! 

Helen. Good-bye ! 

Marjorie (speaking with Helen). Good-bye ! 

(Ann stands in the window , watching them off and waving good-bye. 
The sound of the motor dies out in the distance. Ann moves over 
to the table r. She turns on the table lamp on table r., and comes 
down to the lower end of table, where she puts things to rights. Takes 
up Lafe’s pipe and puts it down with almost a caress. Alan 
enters window l. He wears a sweater and carries the racket. Ann 
picks up a sheaf of papers.) 

Alan (comes to c.). All alone ? 

Ann (turns with a startled exclamation). Oh, Alan! I’d forgotten 
all about you ! Have you been waiting out on the court ? The 
girls have gone to town ! 

Alan (moodily). Yes—I know. 

Ann. Oh ! They said good-bye to you ? 

Alan. They didn’t say anything to me. (A slight pause.) I 
heard. 

Ann. You — heard. 

Alan. I was sitting in the arbour—you know, the one just back 
of the court. Helen walked by with Marjorie. 

(Ann nods.) 

Aiid I heard^Helen tell Marjorie she was going to town, 


Act I.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


39 


Ann. You mean they were both going ? 

Alan. Well, yes, I suppose so. I only just caught a few words 
as they were passing. Helen said she was going to meet . . . ( more 
hurt than angry) Mr. Devereaux! {He turns away L.) 

Ann. What! (Putting papers on desk and coming down stage.) 
Alan (turns to Ann). Oh, just for dinner, or something ! 

Ann. Did she say dinner ? 

Alan (looking front). No, but she said the Ritz-Carlton, at eight 
o’clock, so I suppose she must have meant for dinner. 

Ann (apprehensive, coming to him). Did she say the Ritz-Carlton ? 

(Alan looks at her.) 

Are you sure she said the 'Ritz-Carlton ? 

Alan. Why, yes ; I’m sure she said the Ritz ! 

Ann (her fears confirmed — looks front — softly). The Ritz! 

Alan. She said, “ I’m going to leave you when we get to town, 
Marjorie. I’m meeting Mr. Devereaux at eight o’clock at the 
Ritz.” 

Ann (an exclamation — suppressed). Oh ! 

(Ann goes to the bell-push on wall l. of arch r.u. and pushes it.) 

Alan (moves l. a little). Of course, I’ve got no right to say any¬ 
thing. Helen’s given me to understand that ! And I don’t suppose 
there’s any real harm in having dinner in a public place. (Turns 
to face Ann, who comes down from bell-push.) If I did think so, I 
shouldn’t have mentioned the matter to you ! (Moves to Ann.) 

Ann (r.). You were quite right to mention it. And it doesn’t 
matter in the least. 

Alan (observing that she is trying to control herself). Is there 
anything wrong, Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann. No, Alan, everything is all right. 

Alan. Mrs. Regan—if I can be of any service- 

Ann. No, thank you, Alan. Everything is quite all right. 
Alan (he takes her hand and presses it). Good night, Mrs. Regan. 
Ann. Good night, Alan. 

(Alan exits, window l.) 

(Ann crosses to l.c. Butler enters r.u. and comes to r. of Ann.) 
Butler. You rang, ma’am ? 

Ann. Bates, I’ve changed my mind. I shan’t be here to dinner. 
Tell Norris. . . . (She stops. Pause.) 

Butler (suggesting). To bring the car ? 

Ann. No ; I shan’t need it. I’m just running over to the 
Churchills’. I’ll be back before Mr. Regan. Tell Jennie to bring 
my hat and coat. (Coming to above table l.) 

(The Butler goes slowly up the stairs.) 



40 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act I. 


Quickly, Bates! 

(He exits up r. on the balcony.) 

(She waits impatiently l. of the stairs , until he is gone. She then 
takes up the 9 phone.) 

Hello! Hello! Put me through to the station. (She waits 
impatiently.) Hello! Is that the station ? . . . This is Mrs. 
Regan. What time is the next train to New York—thank you ! 
Just a moment! Is there a taxi at the station ? 

(A pause. The curtain starts down as she speaks.) 

Tell the driver to pick me up at the gate ! And tell him to hurry ! 
7 must catch that train ! Thank you. Good-bye ! 

(She hangs up the receiver as the curtain touches the stage.) 

End of Act I. 

Curtain calls : Frank, Ann, Lafe, Helen, Marjorie. 
Frank, Ann, Lafe. 

Average time of Act, thirty-two minutes. 





























































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Acts II and III of “The Sign on the Door 






















ACT II 


Scene. —The room at the Ritz. Below door l. is an oak chest, upon 
which is a revolver loaded, a small travelling clock, a collar-box, 
some shirts, pyjamas and collars, and a brass ornament. At lower 
end of chest, setting on and off stage, slightly on rake, is a leather 
travelling trunk in which are clothes. Off stage l. against door 
backing is a writing bureau, over which is a picture. In recess l. 
of door r.c. is a bronze Buddha, l. of which is a red lacquer cabinet. 
In front of fireplace r. is a settee facing fireplace, upon which is a 
deed-box. Over down stage end of settee is hung a Chinese dressing 
jacket. Below down stage end of settee is a small table, upon which 
is a salver containing a tumbler, a water carafe, and a decanter in 
which is whisky. Below table is a large arm- chair—between arm-chair 
and small table is a tall electric lamp. Under window down R. is 
a window seat shaped to scene, o.l. is a writing table, upon which 
is a blotter, ink-pot, pen, tray, pens and pencil, also a few pins, a 
writing block, one or two opened letters, a sheaf of receipted bills, 
steamship prospectuses, a box of matches, ash-tray, a telephone, a 
cigarette box containing cigarettes, an evening paper, and a leather 
portfolio containing photograph of the raid in the Prologue. Above 
table is a chair, coal-bucket and set of fire-irons by fireplace r. Orna¬ 
ments on mantelshelf, above fireplace R. Telephone bell in drawer 
of table c. Below door l. and above chest l. a chair. The walls are 
decorated with different articles, such as spears and such like collected 
from all over the world. 

Time. —It is eight o'clock in the evening of the same day as Act I. 

(At rise, Frank Devereaux is seated above the table c., writing. 
His hat is on the settee before the fireplace. Ferguson, his man¬ 
servant, enters l.2, his arms full of wearing apparel, clothing, shirts, 
ties, etc., which he intends packing. Ferguson was attached to the 
paternal Devereaux. He is well past fifty, eminently respectable, 
and a philosopher. He comes down to above the trunk.) 

Ferguson (after placing clothing, etc., on chest l.). Writing, sir ? 
Frank (looks up and shakes his head). No. I’m opening oysters. 

(Resumes his writing.) 

(Ferguson kneels above the trunk and makes ready to pack.) 

(After a pause, holds up for Ferguson to read, the sign he has printed.) 

41 


42 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act II. 


Fergie. A sign—for the chambermaids. 

Ferguson ( on his knees above trunk — reads). “ Do not disturb 
me.” Chambermaids don’t believe in signs, sir. Anyway, it don’t 
seem fair to interfere with their modest pleasures. What golf is 
to you, sir, trying to bust in on a sleeping gentleman is to a chamber¬ 
maid. ( Packs a garment from the chest.) 

Frank. I don’t call that a modest pleasure. 

Ferguson. It’s their regular morning exercise—rattling the door, 
poking keys, laying in wait until you get back to sleep, and then— 
doing it all over again ! In my little room—on the top storey— 
they won’t let me alone ! ( Packs another garment.) 

Frank (looks up from the letter he is writing). Good Lord ! I 
thought you'd have been safe. What time is it, Fergie ? 

Ferguson ( looks at small clock on the chest). Eight o’clock, sir. 
(Packs another garment.) 

Frank (hesitates, and then draws ’phone to him). Hello! Give 
me the clerk, please. . . . Oh, is that you, Callahan ? (A slight 
pause.) How are you ? . . . I ordered dinner in my room at eight 
o’clock. Will you see that it isn’t served until I send down word ? 
Yes, thank you; that’s all. Good-bye. (Hangs up receiver , and 
replaces ’phone r. of table.) 

Ferguson. You’ve ordered dinner, sir ? (Packs another gar¬ 
ment.) 

Frank. For two. 

(Ferguson rises from the trunk and crosses above the table c. to door 
up r.c. Frank speaks when Ferguson is at the door.) 

That’s all right, Fergie. You needn’t go. 

(Ferguson comes down to l. of Frank.) 

Only—when you do go- 

Ferguson. Yes, sir ? 

Frank. Don’t “ bust in ” until I send for you in the morn¬ 
ing. 

(They look at each other, and Ferguson understands.) 
Ferguson. Very good, sir. 

(Frank resumes his letter-writing. Ferguson starts for the trunk, 
looks about for something to use in packing, sees the newspaper on 
the l. side of the table c., takes the newspaper to the trunk—kneels 
and tears two sheets at once from the paper, in which to wrap articles.) 

Frank (after Ferguson lias torn sheets). Is that to-night’s paper ? 
Ferguson (glancing at it). Yes, sir. 

Frank. I thought so ! 

Ferguson (abashed). I’m sorry, sir. (Takes the small clock from 
the chest.) 



Act II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


43 


Frank (as he writes—not looking up). That’s all right. You know 
we’re leaving Tuesday ? 

Ferguson (starts wrapping clock in sheet of newspaper). Yes, 
sir. 

Frank. For San Francisco ? 

Ferguson. Yes, sir. 

Frank. Have you bought our tickets ? 

(Ferguson nods and grunts in affirmative.) 

From the Hall Porter ? 

(Ferguson nods and grunts in affirmative.) 

Have you told every one we’re going ? 

Ferguson (grins sheepishly). Yes, sir, I- (Stops wrapping 

up clock.) 

Frank. That’s good! 

Ferguson. Good , sir ? 

Frank. Yes—because we’re not leaving for San Francisco on 
Tuesday. We’re sailing to-morrow morning for Cape Town. 

Ferguson. My God! 

Frank. We’re going with a friend of mine—captain of a tramp 
steamer—under assumed names, as able seamen. 

(Ferguson finishes wrapping up clock , puts it in trunk , then speaks.) 

Ferguson (looking at Frank). Mr. Frank, what have you been 
up to now ? 

Frank. Up to ? Nothing! Only there’s a gentleman I don’t 
want to see, on the Aquitania, due to-morrow. 

Ferguson (sighs). You’d be such a nice man if there weren’t 
any women in the world. When will you get through sowing your 
wild oats ? 

(Frank has taken cigarette from box.) 

Your father—that I was serving when you were born ; your father 
used to remark, “ Stick to him, Fergie, and he’ll get over it! ” But 
you don’t ! There’s a saying, sir, “ As ye sow—so shall you reap.” 

Frank (indifferently). I know the chorus. (Lights cigarette.) 

Ferguson (on knees above trunk — packing collar-box). Yes, sir, 
but gen’rally you sow and I reap ! I can’t be an able seaman! Five 
minutes on that boat and I’ll be a disabled seaman ! I get seasick 
in a ’ammock. I’ve been pretty nearly everywhere with you, sir, 
but this time I think you’d better leave me at home ! 

Frank (in tone of affection). No— I couldn’t do that, Fergie. 

Ferguson. I’ve got to think of myself, sir. Them things 
weren’t so bad when you was a lad, but you’re grown now, and 
I’m the father of a family. (Sentimentally.) My boy, Andrew— 
my boy —’e’s a-working for the Bible Union. (Shocked.) What 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


44 


[Acs? II. 


would lie say if our conduct got into the papers ? Besides, what 
is there in it for you, Mr. Frank ? 

Frank (thoughtfully—after a pause — Ferguson attentive to Frank). 
Well, I’m hanged if I know, Fergie. I’m always swearing : “ Never 
again! ” and then there’s a moon—and a quiet corner—and a 
beautiful woman and—damn it—you must say something ! (A slight 
pause.) You stick to me, Fergie. ( Takes the leather portfolio from 
the table c., goes to settee and puts it in deed-box.) I’m through ! 
Ferguson (gravely). I’ll stick ! (Packs another garment.) 

Frank (as he comes down to above the table c.). Oh, by the way, 
Fergie, I may have my wife with me on that boat. (Takes up 
several bills, etc., which he glances over.) 

Ferguson (amazed outburst, falls backward to a sitting position 
on the floor). Another ! 

Frank (quietly). The last! 

Ferguson (straightens himself up to a kneeling position). All 
right, sir; if you can square it with the captain. (Packs another 
garment.) 

Frank (he crosses to door up r.c. and opens it and looks off). Is 
that clock right ? How long is it after eight ? 

Ferguson (looks at his watch). Five minutes. 

Frank (as he closes door and comes down to r. of table c.). They’re 
always punctually half an hour late, aren’t they ? (Looking at a 
sheaf of bills.) 

Ferguson (holding up a revolver which he takes from off chest l.). 
What am I to do with this, sir ? 

Frank. Is it loaded ? 

Ferguson. Yes, sir. 

Frank. Well, wrap it up, and stick it in the trunk. (Goes to 
deed-box on settee r. with portfolio, timing this to finish on Ferguson’s 
“ Aquitania’s in.”) 

Ferguson (takes up torn page of the newspaper, starts to wrap the 
revolver, sees the paragraph, starts, reads and gets quickly to his feet 
and goes to table, putting revolver down). Mr. Frank! 

Frank (at fireplace — turns). Yes. 

Ferguson. The Aquitania’s in ! 

Frank. What ? (Shutting lid of deed-box with a bang. Flings 
letters into grate.) 

Ferguson. Got in this afternoon ! 

Frank (comes quickly to above table c. r. of Ferguson). Is that 
the passenger list ? 

Ferguson. Yes, sir ; including Colonel Gaunt! 

(Frank seizes the paper and glances at the article. Ferguson puts 
revolver down on l. side of the table. A pause—then Frank crumples 
the paper into a ball and moving towards the fireplace, about to 
throw it into the grate, throws it to Ferguson instead, who puts it 
on table.) 


Ago? II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOB. 


45 


{Frightened for Frank’s safety.) Excuse me, sir, hadn’t you better 
go ? (Putting chair up stage.) 

Frank (calmly). Go ? Where ? 

Ferguson (above table c.). Anywhere—that isn’t here ! 

Frank (shakes his head). I’ve an appointment here at eight. 

Ferguson (nervously). Yes, sir, but- 

Frank. That’s all, Fergie. Get me a drink. (He goes down 
and sits in arm-chair r.) 

Ferguson (he crosses to liquor stand above arm-chair it., and pours 
out whisky, coming to front of Frank with whisky in tumbler and 
water carafe and pours water into whisky). If I was you, sir, I 

wouldn’t take chances with Colonel Gaunt. He’s a cool- 

Frank (as though tired of listening). That’ll do, Fergie. (He 
leans back in the chair.) We’re not leaving here on account of 
Colonel Gaunt. We’re going to avoid scandal. 

(Fergie goes to wine table and replaces water carafe.) 

(Calls.) Fergie. 

(Ferguson comes back to Frank.) 

Fergie, in affairs of this kind, always protect the lady. 

Ferguson (nervously). I will, sir. (Going towards door r.c.) 

(The telephone rings. Ferguson starts to ’phone. Frank snaps his 
fingers and Ferguson stops and looks at Frank. There is an 
instant of silence and then the ’phone rings sharply again. The 
’phone continues ringing. After a moment Frank rises, puts glass 
on table, and goes above the table c. and takes up the ’phone.) 

Frank (into ’phone—in a low tone). Yes, I’m in. Thank you. 

(Hangs up receiver and puts down ’phone.) Fergie- (To above 

table.) 

Ferguson (coming to r. of Frank— fearfully). Yes, sir ? 
Frank. Good night. (Takes up revolver.) 

Ferguson. Yes, sir. Is it—Colonel Gaunt ? 

Frank (is about to put revolver in his hip pocket, finds he hasn’t 
one, and places it in the cigarette box on the table c.). No ! 
Ferguson (relieved — cheerfully). Good, sir. (Stands waiting.) 
Frank (turns, looks at Ferguson and then). Good night, Fergie. 
Ferguson. Yes, sir. (Goes to door up r.c. and opens it.) I’ll 
be in my room if you want me. Good night, sir. 

Frank. Good night. 

(Ferguson heaves a heavy sigh of relief and exits up r.c., closing the 

door.) 

(Frank takes up whisky glass, drinks and crosses to chest l., puts 
glass down on the chest l. and closes lid of trunk. There is a rap 
on the door up R.c.) 



46 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act II. 

Frank (on knock—moves towards door). Come in ! (Placing chair 
farther up l.) 

(Ann enters quickly—closes door and stands before it.) 

Mrs. Regan! 

Ann. You didn’t expect to see me. 

Frank (above table c.). I didn’t expect anyone, but when the 
clerk announced a lady—— 

Ann. Precisely. I knew you wouldn’t see me. 

Frank. You do yourself an injustice. (A pause.) But isn’t 
this just a trifle imprudent ? A married woman ! 

Ann. • I’m here about Helen. (Coming down stage R. to front of 
arm-chair r.) 

Frank. I thought we’d settled that hours ago. (Going down to 
l. of Ann.) 

Ann. You promised not to see her again. 

Frank. Well ? 

Ann. And she’s coming here. 

Frank. No ; really ? 

Ann. We’re wasting time, Mr. Devereaux. I know my daughter 
has an appointment with you at eight o’clock. 

Frank (takes out his watch—indicates time). Well—it’s after 
eight. (Smiles, puts watch back in pocket.) 

(Ann looks around the room, then deliberately crosses below table to 
door l.2.) 

(When Ann reaches door.) That’s my bedroom. There’s no one in 
there, and there’s no way out except through here. But make 
yourself at home. 

(Ann opens door, exits l.2 instantly—leaving door open.) 

Frank (reaches quickly for the 'phone, takes it up and calls). Hello ! 
Hello ! (Gets no answer—impatiently moves receiver hook up and 
down.) Damn! Hello ! 

(Hears Ann returning, replaces the receiver and puts down 'phone — 
takes cigarette from box on table. Ann re-enters, closing the door. 
Frank lights cigarette. She glances toward the recess containing 
the Buddha.) 

Did you look up the chimney ? 

Ann. She’s not here. 

Frank. You must be greatly relieved. And, as you see, I’ve 
packing to do. 

(A pause—she doesn't move.) 

(Coming below table, to up l. of it.) Don’t let me detain you. (He 
bows.) 


47 


Act II.] THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 

(Ann hesitates ; then moves up to door up r.c. ’ Phone rings — when, 
Ann opens door. Frank answers into 'phone.) 

Frank. No, I didn’t. It’s a mistake. ( Hangs up receiver 
replaces 'phone c. of table.) 

(When Ann stops, turns, shuts door and looks at Frank, who moves 
to l. of the table c.) 

My packing ! I’m sure you understand. 

Ann. Yes, I do understand—but I’m not going. 

Frank (l. of table c.). You’re not - ? 

Ann. Not until I know where Helen is. (Coming down stage r.) 
Frank. I can tell you that. (Comes below l. of table.) She’s 
dining with the Blakes. 

Ann. She isn’t. I telephoned—not half an hour ago—and they 
hadn’t arrived. 

Frank. Perhaps they had a breakdown. 

Ann. So Marjorie said. 

Frank. Well ? 

Ann. And she’d join her mother later at the theatre. 

Frank. Is there anything very strange about that ? 

Ann. Except that, when Marjorie telephoned her mother, she 
said she’d left Helen in New Rochelle. 

Frank. And you think that means- 

Ann. I know what it means ! 

Frank. Because she left home- 

Ann. Because, before she left home, she told Marjorie she’d an 
appointment with you at eight o’clock. 

(Frank goes to above table, puts cigarette in ash-tray.) 

Some one overheard and repeated it to me. Now you know why 
I’m sure of my ground, and, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait. 

Frank (after a slight pause. Picking up ball of paper). But I 
do mind. 

Ann. Why —if no one’s coming ? 

Frank (throws ball of paper l. and walks down to Ann). I didn’t 

say no one was coming. I said- 

Ann. You said you didn’t expect anyone. 

Frank (r. of table c.). I didn’t expect you. And now you’re 
here. (Slight pause.) Mrs. Regan, your husband doesn’t approve 
of our acquaintance; it would be very awkward if he learned of 
this visit. 

Ann. He won't —if I find Helen. 

Frank. Then I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere. If 
your daughter had an appointment with me at eight o clock and 
meant to keep it, she’d have been here by now. 

Ann. Unless she had a breakdown. 


48 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act II. 


(She boks him in the eye for a moment , then sits. Frank impatiently 
takes stage up l. A long pause. Frank turns and looks at her.) 

(After the look.) Don’t let me interfere with your packing. 
Frank. Mrs. Regan, I’ve no wish to be rude to you— 

(Ann holes at him.) 

but neither do I want (crosses to Ann, r.) trouble with your husband. 
Ann. My husband’s engaged elsewhere. 

Frank. Suppose he finds you’re not ? Suppose he follows you 
here. I’ve no desire to be forced into a row with your husband. 

Ann. You should have thought of that when you made love to 
his daughter. 

Frank. She’s old enough to know what she’s doing. (Up to r. 
of table.) 

Ann. Perhaps; but there’d have been more than a row if I’d 
mentioned it to my husband. 

Frank (turns). And—you didn’t, I suppose—to protect me ! 
(Sits on table.) 

Ann. I didn’t —to protect Helen. I should have done so when 
I thought she’d been foolish for a moment, but when I learned that 

she was coming here- (A slight pause.) My husband doesn’t 

view these trifles in your light, Mr. Devereaux. He says there are 
some things a man can’t forgive. 

Frank. When did he say that ? 

Ann. A few hours ago. 

Frank. Why ? 

Ann. He was asking how well I’d known you. 

Frank. What made him ask that ? 

Ann. Something you said this afternoon. 

Frank. You mean—he suspects ? 

Ann. I mean—he suspects you. 

Frank (disconcerted for an instant). Where is your husband ? 
Ann. He came in with Helen. 

Frank. To town ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Frank. Then isn’t the whole thing perfectly simple ? Helen 
isn’t here, or at the Blakes’, because she’s with her father. 

Ann. She isn’t! 

Frank. How do you know she isn’t ? 

Ann. Because I know where he is. 

Frank. Where is he ? 

Ann. At the Club. 

Frank. At the Club ! (Rising.) 

Ann. At the Cosmopolitan Club—with Colonel Gaunt! 

Frank. With Colonel Gaunt! (After a pause.) Mrs. Regan, 
you must go ! (Goes above her.) 



Act II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


49 


Ann. Not until I hear from Helen. 

Frank. You won’t hear ! 

Ann. You seem very sure. 

Frank. I’m very sure that your remaining here is the height 
of folly. I must insist upon your leaving. 

Ann. And if I refuse 1 

Frank. If you refuse, I shall have to put you out. (Up to door 
and opens it.) 

Ann (rises and goes quickly to above the table c. and takes up the 
’ phone—drops her gloves and bag on table). Then I shall get my 
husband. 

Frank (slams door. Coming down r. of Ann). You don’t dare ! 
Ann. Why not ? 

Frank. Because, if you send for your husband, I shall be com¬ 
pelled to tell him everything. 

Ann. I was a fool not to tell him everything long ago. I was 
a fool not to tell him the first time you came to the house, and 
I was a fool and a coward not to tell him, this afternoon. And 
now- 

Frank. Now it’s too late. 

Ann. What do you mean ? 

Frank. You’ve lied to this man for years. If you tell him the 
truth to-night, will it seem like the truth, or like a story frightened 
out of you—a subterfuge invented to explain away the fact that 
five years ago we were arrested together in a raid on a disreputable 
house. 

Ann. You’d tell him that ? He wouldn’t believe you. 

Frank. He won’t have to believe me. (He goes to deed-box on 
settee R. and gets portfolio and comes back to Ann, takes photo from it 
and hands it to her.) Do you remember, as we were being marched 
away, a man took our pictures. That’s a remarkably good photo¬ 
graph. You can judge for yourself. 

(He gives her the photography she takes it } looks at it for a moment 
and then tears it into four pieces , and is about to go on tearing when 
he speaks.) 

That’s all right. I have the negative. 

(Frank throws portfolio under the table c. Ann lets the pieces drop 
to the floor ; and faces front so that he cannot see the dismay in her 
face.) 

Photographers call that a print. I’m afraid your husband would 
regard it as— proof. (Takes her gloves and bag from the table , 
and offers them to her.) Allow me. 

Ann ( firmly , facing him). Vm not going ! 

Frank (drops bag and gloves on table). No? 

Ann. No ! I won’t buy my happiness with Helen’s! 

D 


50 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act II. 


Frank. This isn’t a question of Helen’s happiness only ; it’s a 
question of your whole future ! 

Ann. You saw, this afternoon, I was willing to take that chance. 
Frank. But now you’ve got no chance. That picture speaks 
for itself, and you’re driving me to use it. 

Ann. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of ! 

Frank. So you said, but—your husband doesn’t view these 
trifles in your light, Mrs. Regan. 

Ann. He’d kill you. 

Frank. He’d divorce you. Go home, Mrs. Regan. 

Ann. And let you ruin my daughter ? 

Frank. And let me many your daughter. 

Ann. Either way—her life is ruined ! 

Frank. Your husband’s with Colonel Gaunt. That means that, 
sooner or later, they’ll both call on me here. I don’t want them to 
find Helen here, any more than I want them to find you. 

(Ann wavers.) 

I don’t want to use that picture, and I won’t, unless you force me 
to. It’s nearly nine o’clock, and your daughter’s not coming. 
Ann (giving in). And if she does ? 

Frank. For obvious reasons, I can’t see her ! 

(When Ann picks up her gbves and bag, telephone rings—one sharp 

ring.) 


Ann. Helen! 


(They look at each other.) 

Frank. I don’t think so ! 

Ann. I’ll answer ! (About to pick up ’phone.) 

Frank (placing himself between Ann and the ’phone). I wouldn’t! 

(The ’phone rings again.) 

Ann. I insist upon your answering that ’phone ! 

Frank. Why ? 

Ann. I want to know if it’s Helen! 

Frank. If it is, she’ll go away. 

Ann. And come back later when I’m not here to prevent it. 
(The telephone rings insistently.) 

If you don’t answer, I will ! 

(She reaches for the ’phone, putting her gloves and bag on table. He 
grasps her hand and arm, preventing her. A long pause. They 
look at each other. Frank releases Ann as soon as she is quiet, 
takes up the ’phone.) 

Frank (into the ’phone). Hello ! Mr. Devereaux’s not at home ! 


Act II.] 


^HE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


51 


No! Not until midnight! Certainly not! (He hangs up the 
receiver and turns to face Ann — a slight pause.) Your husband! 
Ann (l.c.). Then why didn’t you tell him to come up ? 
Frank (looks at her in amazement). Are you mad ? You must 
get out! The side way—quickly ! I’ll show you ! I don’t believe 
he’s gone. 

Ann. I don’t believe he was here. 

Frank. Don’t be a fool! 

Ann. That was a pretence to get rid of me ! If it wasn’t, why 
did you say “ not until midnight ” ? 

Frank. So that I’d be alone. 

Ann. With him or with Helen ? If that was Helen, and you 
turned her away until midnight, I can’t find her except by remaining 
here till midnight. 

Frank. Mrs. Regan, you’re quite mad! I give you my word 
that caller was Regan! He has been told I’m out. If he comes 
to this room and finds you here- 

(There is a loud knock on door up r.c. As quick as a flashy Frank 
goes to door and turns the key in the lock—moves a few steps down 
stage and calls.) 

Who’s there ? 

Lafe (off r.c.). Lafe Regan ! 

(Frank looks at Ann — a pause. Ann is really frightened . Pause. 
Frank trying to think his way out.) 

No use, Devereaux ! I recognized your voice ! Open the door. 

Frank. One moment. (He looks from Ann to door l.2, comes 
to r. of Ann and picks up her gloves and bag, and whispers.) In 
there. 

(Ann shakes her head “No.”) 

Ann (softly). No ! 

Frank (softly). Why not ? 

Ann (softly). I don’t trust you. 

(Frank crosses to l. of Ann.) 

Lafe (off up r.c.). Open this door! 

Frank. Just a moment! (Puts chair farther back out of the 
way.) 

Ann (softly). I’ll tell him the truth ! 

Lafe (off up r.c. After a slight pause). I won’t wait much 

Frank (inaudibly whispering to Ann). If you go in, Ill get rid 
of him, and leave here—with you, so you can be sure I shan’t see 
Helen! For God’s sake, go in ! (Giving gloves and bag to her.) 

(He urges Ann out l.2 and closes the door.) 


52 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act II. 


(He stands for an instant looking about the room to be sure Ann has 
left nothing, and goes to l. of door up R.C., unlocks the door and 
opens it. Lafe, in dinner clothes, soft hat—with overcoat thrown 
over his arm, is standing in the doorway. He steps just inside the 
room. He is angry, but very quiet.) 

You were told I wasn’t at home ! 

Lafe. I knew you were lying! 

Frank. I’m not at home to you. Good night! 

(Lafe walks down r. of table c. and crosses below the table to l. of 
the table. Frank shuts the door and comes down. He speaks when 
Lafe has reached l. below trunk.) 

Frank. Callahan had no right to let you up. 

Lafe. The man downstairs doesn’t know I’m here: I left word 
I’d be at the Club, went out and came up the way you brought 
me last week—the side way. I was determined to find you. 
Frank. So I see. (Goes down to arm-chair r.) 

Lafe. I’ve been talking with Colonel Gaunt. 

Frank. Oh, yes ! How is he ? (Sits on arm of arm-chair R.) 
I hear he got in this afternoon on the Aquitania. 

Lafe. In search of you. 

Frank. Well ? 

Lafe. I told him you weren’t in town. 

Frank. Why ? 

Lafe. To give you time to get away. 

Frank. That’s very kind of you, but I’m not going away. 
Lafe. Oh, yes, you are ! Not Monday or Tuesday, but to-night 
—and you’re never coming back. 

Frank. You seem very sure of that. 

Lafe. As sure as that— if you do, he’ll kill you! 

Frank. You’re wonderfully anxious to save my life. 

Lafe. I’m wonderfully anxious to save my friend's life, and his 
good name, and the good name of his wife. That’s why you’re 
going to-night, and I’m going with you—to the station! 

Frank (seeing his way clear—rising and goes to r. of table, glances 

at door l.). Oh, you're going- 

Lafe. To be right on the platform when the train pulls out! 
Frank. That suits me I (Goes to settee, puts hat on and coat 
over arm and opens door.) Are you ready 1 
Lafe. Not quite. 

Frank. Why not ? My things are packed, and I can wire to 
have ’em sent on. The sooner we are out of this mess the better, 
and so—come on—we’re off to the station ! 

Lafe (without budging). Just—that—easy ! 

Frank. Why not ? 

Lafe. Because—you’re not going to get out of this “ mess ” 


Act II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


53 


with flying colours. I’m letting you go, for Gaunt, but I’m damned 
if you go unpunished! 

Frank. I don’t quite get you! 

Lafe. All right! (Drops his overcoat and gloves on the trunk.) 
I’m going to get you ! (Takes off hat and drops it on overcoat. Take 
off dinner-jacket and drops it on hat and overcoat.) Take off your 
coat! 

Frank (shuts door). I don’t know what you mean ? 

Lafe. I mean I can’t kill you, without getting into the papers, 
but I can give you a damned good thrashing ! 

Frank (moves from the door to upper r. end of table c. Coolly — 
impudently). I don’t believe you can ! 

Lafe (after a pause). Then take off your coat! 

(A pause — Frank stands thinking.) 

What are you going to do ? Run away ? 

Frank. You’re going out of this room ! (To above c. of table c.) 

Lafe (moves up a trifle , to be on a line with Frank). I think not! 

(Frank drops coat on floor and picks up the telephone.) 

(Quietly — tensely.) Put down that ’phone ! Put it down, or I’ll 
knock your damned head off. 

Frank (puts down the ’ phone—shrugs his shoulders—smiles and 
spreads his hands in a gesture that says “ Now are you satisfied ? ”— 
then). You’re not on a cattle ranch now! 

Lafe. That’s lucky for you ! If we were, I’d leave you to Gaunt ! 

Frank (above table , c.). Why don’t you ? After all, it is his 
business. 

Lafe (l.c on line with Frank). I made it mine when I let you 
slip through his fingers ! I’ve got a right to do that, if I like, but 
I’ve got no right to let you feel that you can run amuck in other men’s 
homes, and get away with it! (A slight pause.) We’ve talked 
enough ! Take off your coat ! 

Frank (looks at him a moment; then quietly lounges on the up stage 
side of the table c.). Go to hell! 

Lafe. You won’t fight ? 

Frank. Not now! 

Lafe. When ? 

Frank. Whenever you like—wherever you like—but not here 
and not now. This is neither the time nor the place. 

Lafe. This is my time ! 

Frank. Then you must wait mine ! ( His eyes fall on the cigarette 

box. He draws the cigarette box toward him.) I’m not a child 
(raises cover of cigarette box—it stays open) —to be punished ! ^ (Takes 
cigarette from the box and taps it on the open box cover.) 111 meet 

you anywhere you like to-morrow, but to-night- (Throws 

cigarette away, reaches quickly into cigarette box, grabs revolver and 


54 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act II. 

covers Lafe.) I’m going out of this room in two minutes, and 
you’re going with me ! 

Lafe (quietly). Put down that gun! 

Frank ('pointing revolver at Lafe). When you go. 

Lafe. You haven’t the nerve to shoot. 

Frank (calm and determined). What makes you think that ? 

Lafe. Because you don’t fight men. Not face to face, and 
alone. You’re the kind of puppy that takes women—when their 
men-folks ain’t looking—and breaks their hearts and leaves ’em 
to die. I’ve met your sort—once before. 

Frank. Are you going ? 

Lafe. You know I’m not. Just as well as you know this man’s 
wife was a good woman. Just as well as you knew she was just 
lonely, and weak for a minute, and you snaked in, and took advantage 
of it! 

Frank. Who told you that ? 

Lafe. You know who told me ! 

Frank. Where did he get it ? 

Lafe. You know that, too ! 

Frank. And how do you know she wasn’t lying ? 

Lafe. You know how I know ! Because I’ve seen you try the 
same trick on another woman who’s always loathed and despised 
you ! 

Frank. Are you sure of that ? 

Lafe (advancing a trifle). What do you mean ? 

Frank. Nothing—except that I’ve stood all I’m likely to 3tand 
from you, and you’d better go ! 

Lafe (ominous). You meant something ! 

Frank. I meant that I’m pretty well fed up on protecting 
women- (Throws hat up stage and rises.) 

Lafe. Protecting! 

Frank. You'd better go ! 

Lafe (ready to spring). You—that I saw this afternoon come 
into a house where you weren’t wanted, and force your attentions 
upon— 

(Frank holding himself with a great effort.) 

—a woman that begged me, the first time you came, to throw you 
into the street! 

Frank. Yes, and when you suspected me, did you ever suspect 
her of the reason why ? 

Lafe (ready for blow). Suspect her - 

Frank. Of trying to keep me out because- 

Lafe. Because— why? 

Frank. Because she was afraid ? 

Lafe. Afraid — why ? 

Frank. Afraid you’d know that she*d been my mistress! 



Act II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


55 


(Pause.) 

Lafe. You liar ! (Hitting Frank with his right fist.) 

(Frank falls on floor on his hack, retaining his hold on the revolver. 
Lafe, following ujp his blow, springs upon Frank ; holding him 
down with his right hand, he gets the revolver from Frank with his 
left hand. Having done this he rises and steps hack against door 
R.c., changing the revolver into his right hand. Frank rolls over, 
crawls to small table r., gets up, seizes the water carafe, and hurls it, 
apparently at Lafe, but so as it hits the door up l. As Frank 
throws the carafe, Lafe fires at him point-blank. With a groan 
Frank drops down and rolls over on his face, his position being 
up and down stage, his head being on a line with the centre of the 
arm-chair down r. When he is perfectly still Lafe goes down to 
him. As soon as Lafe moves down to the body, Ann very quietly 
opens door up l. and looks to see which man is shot. Ascertaining 
that it is not her husband, she closes the door silently. When Lafe 
gets to the body he kneels down and feels Devereaux’s pulse. Find¬ 
ing that he has killed Devereaux, he rises and steps back a little, 
aghast.) 

Lafe. Good Lord! 

(He turns up stage, places revolver on the table, and with his back 
to the audience, sits on edge of table, and puts his hands up to his 
head. He remains thus for a moment, and then, pulling himself 
together, he turns, and is about to pick up the ’phone, with the idea 
of calling the police , when he sees the sign lying on the table. He 
puts down the telephone, picks up the sign, looks at it a moment, 
and then reads it aloud.) 

“ Do not disturb me.” 

(He looks from the sign to Devereaux and laughs a short dry laugh 
at the irony of the situation. He again looks from it to the body and 
from the body to the door up R.c., realizing what Devereaux had 
intended to do with the placard. Next comes to him the idea of the 
way out. He drops the sign on the table and backs up stage a step 
or two listening—then he goes to the door up r.c. and listens then 
down to the windows R. Standing out of sight, he pulls back the 
curtains and looks cautiously out to be sure there is no commotion 
on the street. Satisfied of this, he picks up Devereaux’s hat and 
coat and puts them on the settee. He goes to table for revolver, then 
to the body, kneels and is about to put the pistol in Devereaux’s 
hand when he thinks of finger prints. He rises, leaving revolver 
on the stage by Devereaux’s head, crosses to trunk, and, with his 
back to the body, he gets his gloves from his overcoat pocket, puts 
them on, and returns to the body. He picks up the revolver again 
and , taking his handkerchief from his hip pocket, wipes the finger 


56 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act II. 


;'prints off the revolver, puts the revolver in Devereaux’s r. hand. 
He rises and moves to above the table and wipes the prints from the 
telephone. He notes the carafe on the floor L. —he goes over, 
stopping a moment to look at door l., and then, satisfied that no 
one is the other side of it, he picks up the carafe and puts it down 
on the table c. Moves to the trunk l., where he has dropped his 
overcoat, hat and dinner jacket. He puts on hat, dinner jacket and 
overcoat, and goes back to above the table and wipes the finger prints 
off the sign with his handkerchief, looks about for a pin and finds 
one in the pen-tray on the table, picks up the sign, and goes up to 
the door up r.c. Opens the door wide, and then steps far enough into 
the hall to look up and down it. Comes back, and pins the sign on 
the door. Then takes the key from the inside of the lock and places 
it in the keyhole outside. Gives a final look round the room, to see 
that everything is in order. Wipes the finger prints off the door 
knobs. Slowly closes the door and is heard to lock it with a loud 
click, and takes key out of lock.) 

(A long pause.) 

{The door l.2 opens and Ann enters. With her eyes fixed on Dever- 
eaux she goes to the door up r.c. and tries to open it. Failing, she 
shakes it violently and realizes that she is trapped. She runs to 
the window R., and, kneeling on the window seat, looks out of the 
window for a means of escape. Seeing none, and terror-stricken, 
she runs back into the room l., her hand being visible on the trim of 
the door so that she does not actually leave the stage. Remembering 
that there is no egress through this room, she returns and looks about 
her, and then goes and kneels on the floor by door R.c. and looks in 
vain for the key ; not finding it, she rises and comes to above the 
table c. Throwing her cloak aside, she throws things on table aside, 
looking for something with which to force the lock. Gets a paper 
cutter from the pen-tray and goes up to the door up r.c. and tries 
desperately to pry it open. In so doing, she breaks the paper cutter. 
As she fails she gradually sinks down in a frightened, panting, 
desperate heap. Remaining thus for a moment, she rises, and, 
coming to r. of table c., she looks at the telephone and then to the 
body, and gradually her idea takes form. She slowly comes to l. 
of body, and, kneeling down, tries to get the revolver from his hand ; 
failing in this, she sinks back. Overcoming her horror she again 
tries, this time by removing his fingers from the trigger. Getting 
the revolver, she rises and goes to above the table c. Flinging off her 
hat she lets down her hair and, taking the receiver from the hook of 
telephone, she listens until she hears the answering “ Hello! ” 
She then puts the receiver carefully down on the table and proceeds 
to wreck the place. She runs quickly to the table r. and overturns 
it; in so doing she knocks the standard lamp, which goes out; the 
tray, decanter and glasses crash against the window seat. She then 


Act II.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


57 


sweeps everything off the table c. The hooks, writing materials, etc., 
are strewn about the floor. As she does this she starts calling franti¬ 
cally.) 

Ann. Don’t! Don’t! For God’s sake, don’t! 

(The only thing left on the table is the telephone. She crashes this to 
the floor l. and then fires two (2) shots in the direction of door l. 
Then she comes to front of table c. and deliberately tears her dress 
away from her shoulders. As she does so, she begins rehearsing her 
story, repeating over and over, first in a whisper, and then in a 
steadily increasing crescendo) I killed him ! He attacked me, and 
I killed him! (Through this, voices off up r. in the distance, 
gradually getting nearer until outside the door r.c.) 

Callahan (off up r.c.). I tell you I heard shots. 

Ferguson (off up r.c.). Mr. Frank ! What is it ? 

Callahan (pounding on door up r.c.). Open this door. (More 
pounding.) Break it down ! 

(The door opens and enter Ferguson and “ Kick ” Callahan, the 
proprietor.) 

(Note. — Stage Manager takes sign off door and drops it on floor just 
outside of door. Gets key from Lafe and unlocks door. This is 
done while Ann is trying to pry open the door.) 

Ferguson (as he comes down and kneels above Frank). Mr. 
Frank ! Oh, Mr. Frank ! He’s dead ! 

Callahan (as he enters and comes down to near upper r. corner 
of table c., speaking with Ferguson). What’s happened ? (To Ann 
—as he moves to above table c.) What is it ? What have you done ? 

Ann ( leaning on front of table c., revolver in hand, pointing toward 
Devereaux and reaching the shrillest note of her outcry—which has 
continued through all the speeches above). I killed him ! He attacked 
me, and I killed him! 

The Curtain/ o^s. 

(Cue for Picture. Ann in front of table c., revolver in hand. Calla¬ 
han leaning forward above table, looking at her ; Ferguson on his 
knees above Frank, bending over him.) 

Average time of Act , thirty-two minutes. 


ACT III 


Scene. —The room at the Ritz. The Coroner has viewed the body 
and ordered its removal. The police photographer has taken photo¬ 
graphs of the wreckage and gone. Such things as are needed as 
evidence have been removed by the police. The room has been put 
in order. The tray and broken glassware over R. are missing. The 
round table is back in its place above the arm-chair, and,on this table, 
in place of the drinkables, is the sign “ Do not disturb me.” 
Restored to the table c. are the desk blotter, pen-tray and ink-wells, 
telephone, the cigarette box. The other articles, including the water 
carafe, have been removed. The torn photograph is missing from 
the floor l. of the table c. and the trunk over l . has been taken away. 

Time. —It is half an hour after the end of Act II, shortly before 
half-past nine o’clock. 

(At rise, James Callahan, known as “ Kick ” Callahan, the 
proprietor of the Ritz, who entered at the close of Act II, is standing 
r.c. He is a grim, hard man, past fifty, tough physically and some¬ 
what so in character. The type of man who has been everywhere 
and experienced much. His commercial activities, not always 
strictly “ on the level,” have made it convenient for him to dabble 
in politics and maintain a “ stand-in ” with the police. When the 
Curtain is up, Inspector George Treffy enters at door l. The 
Inspector is the conventional stage figure. He is of medium height, 
thick-set, sharp-mannered and shrewd. Standing in the doorway, 
he calls in to Ann. Callahan drops down c. below table.) 

Inspector (in doorway l.2 —calling off). You rest easy awhile. 
You’ll be all right. (He closes the door and comes down l.) 

Callahan (between table c. and arm-chair r.). Well, Inspector, 
what did ja get out of her ? 

Inspector. Not much. She’s all in. Her name’s Began. 
Callahan (grunts an affirmative “ Yes ”). George —(he crosses 
below table c. to the Inspector) —this looks to me like a plain case 
of suicide. 

Inspector. What d’ye mean . . . suicide ? 

Callahan. That sign on the door, and the gun in his hand. 
Inspector. Yes, but the gun wasn’t in his hand. 

Callahan. Well, it might ’a’ been, and suicide would be a damned 
sight better for my hotel! 


58 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


59 


Inspector. You can’t get away with that! 

Callahan. Can’t I? Well, the both of us could ! This wouldn’t 
be the first shooting that’s been hushed up in New York—and you 
know it! Did you ever hear of a swell that was carried out of a 
disreputable house, and taxied to his hotel to die of acute indiges¬ 
tion ? It was indigestion, but what he couldn’t digest was a couple 
of ounces of lead that a lady pumped into his system. (. Pleadingly , 
'putting his hand in trousers pocket and rattling his money.) Come 
on now, George ; what do you say, eh ? 

Inspector. I say- 

(“ Bud ” Whiting, the District Attorney , enters up r.c.) 

—try it on the District Attorney! 

(Callahan turns with hack to audience and sees Whiting, and moves 
up stage l.) 

Whiting (up r.c., closes the door). Hello, Inspector! (Putting 
hat and coat on settee.) What have you got here to-night ? 

Inspector. Murder! 

Whiting. Sorry I wasn’t at home. I’d left word where to find 
me, but you can’t count on servants. (Drops coat on settee front 
of fireplace — hat on the overcoat.) Let’s have the details. (Comes 
down r. of table c.) 

Inspector (comes to l. of table c.). At eight forty-five, while 
still at Headquarters, I got a communication from Callahan— 
(indicating) —this is Callahan; he’s the proprietor of this hotel— 
that he’d heard shots over the ’phone from this room, broken in 
the door, and found the occupant lying dead on the floor. 

Whiting. Where was he ? 

Inspector (indicating r. between table c. and arm-chair r.). Right 
there ! 

Whiting. Name ? 

Inspector. Frank Devereaux. 

(Whiting shows recognition.) 

I ’phoned you and the medical examiner; picked up the only man 
I had, and came up. The deceased was lying there, and there was 
a woman in the next room. 

Whiting (below lower r. end of table c.). The next room ? 

Inspector. She was in here at the time of the murder. Con¬ 
fessed, and caved in. Callahan put her in there, and she’s coming 
round. She’s Mrs. Lafayette Regan. 

Whiting (amazed). Wife of Lafe Regan ? 

Inspector (takes card from his pocket and crosses to Whiting — 
gives him Mrs. Regan’s card). Yes. 

Whiting (looks at card , then puts it in his pocket). Medical 
examiner been here ? 


60 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Inspector. Just leaving as I came in. I made an examination 
of the premises. Two bullets in the floor, and one in the deceased. 
Signs of a struggle ; you’ll see that in the police photograph. And 
I guess that’s all. (He crosses to l. of the table c., where he stands.) 
Whiting. Good! 

Gallahan. Now, George - 

Whiting (to Callahan). Callahan! (He goes to arm-chair r. 
and sits.) 

Callahan. Yes, sir. (He drops down r. slightly above the arm-chair.) 

(Whiting sizes Callahan up, then speaks —Inspector goes up c. 
behind table.) 

Whiting. Aren’t you the Gallahan that used to have a saloon 
in Third Avenue ? 

Callahan. I still have. 

Whiting. Some pull in that neighbourhood! 

Callahan. Some! 

Whiting. Who was in charge—downstairs—at the time of the 
murder ? 

Callahan. I was. My night clerk’s sick, and I’ve been taking 
his place. I came on at six o’clock. 

Whiting. Mr. Devereaux in ? 

Callahan. Game in about seven ! 

Whiting. Alone ? 

Callahan. Yes. Mrs. Regan got here a little after eight. She 
told me to announce—“ a lady.” 

Whiting. Did you ? 

Callahan. Yes. Mr. Devereaux said: “ Send her up.” That’s 
the last I saw of her till I broke in the door. 

Whiting. That was a quarter to nine ? 

Callahan. Yes! 

Whiting. Three-quarters of an hour afterwards ? 

Callahan. Yes. Meanwhile, there was a visit from Mr. Regan. 
Whiting. Mr. Regan called while Mrs. Regan was up here ? 
Callahan. Yes. Mr. Devereaux said he wasn’t in. Mr. Regan 
insisted. 

Whiting. Excited ? 

Callahan. A little. He said : “ Tell Devereaux he’d better see 
me ; I’ll be waiting at the Cosmopolitan Club.” 

Whiting (he looks at his watch). And that was—less than an 
hour ago ? (To the Inspector.) I think we’d better see Mr. Regan ! 
Inspector (goes to door r.c., opens it, and calls). Mac! 

(Enter Mac.) 

(To the Officer.) Oh, Mac ! Jump in a taxi, go round to the 
Cosmopolitan Club, and bring Regan! 

(Mac about to go.) 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


61 


Oh, and— (significantly) —don’t tell him why he’s wanted, and not 
a word about Mrs. Regan. Understand ? 

Officer. Yes, Inspector. 

(Exits up r.c., closing the door.) 

(Inspector drops down l. of table c.) 

Whiting (in arm-chair r.). Now go on. Regan said he’d be 
waiting. What happened then ? 

Callahan (r.c. — a little above Whiting). Mr. Regan went out. 
A few minutes later there was a telephone signal from this room. 
I picked up the receiver and said : “ Hello ! ” No answer. Then 
I heard a woman’s voice calling for help. 

Whiting. Just that ? 

Callahan. No ; the voice kept saying: “ Don’t—please don’t! ” 
Then there were two shots—and silence. 

Whiting. Two shots ? 

Callahan. Two. 

Whiting. Are you sure ? 

Callahan. Sure ! 

Whiting. The Inspector found three bullets. 

Callahan (looks at Inspector). The Inspector may have found 
a bucket of bullets, but there was only two shots. I said, “ Some¬ 
body’s got Devereaux! ” 

Whiting. To whom did you say that ? 

Callahan. To meself! 

Whiting. What! 

(A slight pause.) 

Callahan. Well, I said it to Mr. Devereaux’s valet, too. 
Whiting. Where is the valet now ? 

Callahan. Waiting in his room. 

Whiting (to the Inspector). Get him. 

(The Inspector goes to above the table and takes up the ’phone.) 

Whiting (to Callahan). Go on ! 

Callahan. We came up—the both of us—and knocked on that 
door. 

Whiting. Why did you knock ? 

Inspector (into ’phone). Send Devereaux’s valet up. 
Callahan. We had to; the door was locked. There was a 
sign on it, too, that fell down when we hammered. When we got 
in, Mr. Devereaux was there. (Indicates floor in front of him.) 
Mrs. Regan was standing over there. (Indicates l. of the table c.) 
Her dress was torn off her shoulders and she had a gun in her hand. 
She said, “ I killed him ! He attacked me, and I killed him ! ” 
Whiting. That’s all for the present. 


62 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act III. 

Callahan (with more to say, moves forward and bends over Whiting). 
Now, there was something else I’d like to talk- 

(Inspector goes to up r. of door r.c. and opens it.) 

Whiting (sharply—checking him). That’ll do for now ! I’ll send 
for you if I want you. 

(Inspector opens door.) 

Callahan (goes up to the door up r.c., his eyes on the Inspector—- 
to Inspector, who is r. of door). Well, my God! What are we 
coming to when you can’t reason with a policeman ? 

(He exits up r.c.) 

(Inspector doses the door and comes down r.) 

Whiting (rising, he goes to c. below table c. To ’ Inspector). 
How about the valet ? 

Inspector. He’s coming. I talked to him as soon as I got 
here. 

Whiting. Stories agree ? 

Inspector. Perfectly. 

Whiting. You’ve got the revolver. 

Inspector (takes revolver from his pocket). Three chambers 
empty. (Holds gun out to Whiting.) 

Whiting (takes revolver from Inspector and looks it over). Finger 
prints ? 

Inspector. Didn’t seem necessary. 

Whiting. No ; this looks pretty simple. (Puts revolver down 
on lower R. end table c.) Oh . . . that sign ? 

Inspector (steps to small table r. and takes up sign). Here! 
(Gives sign to Whiting.) Devereaux wrote that. 

Whiting (sign in hand). Who says so 1 
Inspector. The valet! 

Whiting. And hung it on the door ? 

Inspector. No. 

Whiting. Who did ? 

Inspector. Nobody knows. Mrs. Regan was on her way up 
when the valet left and the valet said the sign was on the table. 
(Indicates table c.) 

Whiting (with a little laugh). Was sign-writing a habit of Dever- 
eaux’s ? 

Inspector. I don’t know. 

Whiting (lounging on lower edge of table c.). It’s damn peculiar. 
(Puts sign on table, face up, then turns it over.) 

(There is a knock on the door up r.c. The Inspector goes up and 
opens the door just enough so he can peek out, then turns to Whiting.) 

Inspector. It’s the valet. 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


63 


(Whiting nods , and the Inspector opens the door. Ferguson is 
seen leaning against the door-casing. His eyes are red from weeping. 
He is grief-stricken. Ferguson comes slowly down r. The 

Inspector closes the door and comes to above Ferguson l. of him. 
Both are r. of table c.) 

Whiting (lounging on lower r. end of table c., takes pencil from 
his pocket. To Ferguson). What’s your name ? (Takes several 
folded sheets of notepaper from his pocket.) 

Ferguson. Ferguson! 

Whiting (makes note — then). First name ? 

Ferguson (finding it hard to remember). Er—Andrew! 
Whiting (makes note and puts notepaper back in pocket. Puts 
pencil back in pocket—observes that Ferguson is deeply affected). 
Ferguson, you’ve been some time with Mr. Devereaux ? 

Ferguson (simply — quietly—the note of grief predominating). I 
was with him before he was born. 

(Whiting smiles to Inspector.) 

Meaning his father. 

Whiting. A fine old gentleman ! I got to know him well a year 
or so before he died. I’ve a few questions to ask you. First—this 
revolver ? 

(Takes up revolver , hands it to Inspector, who shows it to Ferguson.) 
Ferguson. Mr. Devereaux’s. 

(As soon as Ferguson identifies the revolver the Inspector conceals 
revolver behind his back. The revolver is in his R. hand.) 

Whiting. How do you know ? 

Ferguson. I’ve handled it a hundred times. I oiled it and 
loaded it, an hour ago, to put in his trunk. 

Whiting. Why didn’t you ? 

Ferguson. Mr. Devereaux took it. 

Whiting. Why ? 

Ferguson (hesitates). I don’t know. 

Whiting (sees that Ferguson is concealing something , but decides 
not to press the point). What did he do with the pistol ? 
Ferguson. He shut it up in that cigarette box. 

Whiting. What cigarette box ? 

Inspector. Right there. (Pointing to cigarette box on l. of table 
c.) 

(Whiting gets up , turns and looks at box , then returns and speaks.) 

Whiting. Are you sure ? 

Ferguson. Yes, sir. Just as I was leaving. 

Whiting. You left—in the midst of the packing ? 

Ferguson. Mr. Devereaux was expecting some one. 


64 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Whiting. A lady ? 

Ferguson ('pleadingly). Do I have to answer that question ? 
Whiting (gently). I would. 

Ferguson. Oh, sir, I shouldn’t like this to get into the papers ! 
Whiting. How did you know Mr. Devereaux was expecting a 
lady? 

Ferguson. He ordered dinner for her—at eight, sir. 

Whiting. And then-? 

Ferguson. The lady was announced, sir. 

Whiting. At what time ? 

Ferguson (hesitating—trying to recall). At—eight o’clock. 
Whiting. Then would you say that the lady announced at eight 
o’clock was the lady expected ? 

Ferguson. Oh, yes, sir ! 

Whiting. Was the lady Mrs. Regan ? 

Ferguson (indicating door l.). The lady in there ? 

Whiting. Yes. 

Ferguson. Yes, sir. I passed her in the hall. (Bows face in 
hands and half turns r.) 

Whiting. That’s all, Ferguson. 

(The Inspector goes up and opens door up r.o. and Ferguson 
slowly exits , his handkerchief to his eyes , and softly crying.) 

(The Inspector closes the door and changes the revolver to his R. hand. 
Whiting shakes his head , and sits on table.) 

Inspector (comes down r.c.). Self-defence, eh ? (He laughs and 
looks at the revolver.) It’s peculiar how often they go to a man’s 
bedroom to fight for their honour ! (Puts revolver in his hip pocket.) 

Whiting (rises from lounging position on table c.). You can’t 
tell, Inspector. (Goes to front of arm-chair R. —slight pause.) I 
think we’d better hear from Mrs. Regan. (Gets on a line with 
door L.) 

Inspector (crosses above the table c. and opens the door l.2, calls 
off l.2). Mrs. Regan ! 

(A pause. Ann enters and comes a little way into the room . She has 
pulled herself together , and is ready.) 

This is the District Attorney. (He closes the door.) 

Whiting (bows deferentially). My name is Whiting. 

(She bows.) 

And you are Mrs. Regan ? 

(She nods.) 

I’ve met your husband. 

Ann (up l.). I’ve heard him speak of you. 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


65 


Whiting. Won’t you sit down ? (Indicating to Inspector to 
place chair.) 

(Ann comes down l. of table c. The Inspector takes the chair from 
up l.c. and places it l. of the table c. Ann sits in chair placed by 
Inspector. Inspector moves to over r. on line with lower edge 
of table, where he stands watching them. Whiting coming to above 
table c.) 

And now, Mrs. Regan, if you will answer a few questions ? 

(She bows.) 

You are aware, of course, that any statement you make may be 
used against you ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. That you are entitled to counsel, and that no promise 
of immunity is made by me to you ? 

Ann (bows). Yes. 

Whiting. Shall we proceed ? 

Ann. Yes. 

(He sits above the table c., draws paper on which he made previous 
notes to him and takes notes as she answers.) 

Whiting. Your full name is-? 

Ann. Ann Regan. 

(Whiting nods.) 

Whiting. Married to Lafayette Regan ? 

(Ann looks at him, not comprehending.) 

(In reply to look.) When ? 

Ann. In 1916. 

Whiting (makes note). And your address ? 

Ann. New Rochelle, New York. 

Whiting (makes note, then puts pencil in pocket—leans back in 
chair). You were acquainted with the deceased ? 

Ann. With Mr. Devereaux ? Yes. 

Whiting. How well acquainted ? 

Ann. I had met him, once or twice, before my marriage. He 
had been at the house three or four times since. 

Whiting. A friend of your husband ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. You have confessed to being guilty of his murder. 
Ann. Yes. He attacked me, and I killed him. 

(A pause. From here, both tones are changed. The veil of courtesy 
is retained, but, beneath it, these two are fighting a duel. The 
Inspector is standing R.c., chsely regarding Ann.) 

e 


66 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Whiting. What were you doing in this room ? 

Ann. I came- (She stops.) 

Whiting. By appointment ? 

Ann. Certainly not! 

Whiting. At least, Mr. Devereaus was expecting you ? 

Ann. No. 

Whiting. Be careful, Mrs. Regan. Mr. Devereaux had an 
appointment with a woman at eight o’clock. 

Ann. I know. 

Whiting. And at eight o’clock you came ! 

Ann. To protect the other woman. 

Whiting (checked for an instant). Who was the other 
woman ? 

Ann. I can’t tell you. 

Whiting. Why not ? 

Ann. I won’t involve her in this scandal. 

Whiting. Was she a friend ? (No answer.) A relation ? (No 
answer.) How did you know she needed protection ? 

Ann. I’d learned of her appointment, and I knew—something 
of Mr. Devereaux. 

Whiting. Did you tell her what you knew ? 

Ann. She wouldn’t listen. 

Whiting. So you made up your mind to come here and “ pro¬ 
tect ” her ? 

Ann. Not then. 

Whiting. You went home ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. And talked it over with your husband ? 

Ann (guardedly). No. 

Whiting. You didn’t tell him you were coming ? 

Ann. No. 

Whiting. Why not ? 

Ann. He left the house early. 

Whiting. Before dinner ? 

Ann. Yes. I didn’t know then I was coming. 

Whiting. When did you know ? 

Ann. A few minutes later. 

Whiting. So you left at once ? 

(She nods.) 

And came straight here ? 

(She nods.) 

Where did you expect to have dinner 1 
Ann (with emotion). I wasn’t thinking of dinner. 

Whiting. Mr. Devereaux had ordered dinner for two. 

Ann. I know. He was expecting the other woman. 



Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


67 


Whiting. I see. So you decided to go hungry. (Slight pause.) 
And came by motor ? 

Ann. No. 

Whiting. By train ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. And how did you get to the station ? 

Ann. I sent for a taxi. 

Whiting. Why not your car ? 

Ann. My husband had taken it to New York. 

Whiting. I see. So you got a taxi, and you left word with the 
servants- 

Ann. I didn’t! 

Whiting. Oh, you didn’t leave word with the servants ? 

Ann. No ! 

Whiting. Does it strike you, Mrs. Regan, that for a woman 
who was acting from the best and noblest of motives, you took rather 
good care to cover your tracks ? You went home, full of this 
exciting assignation, worried about your friend, but you didn’t 
discuss it with your husband! You didn’t leave word where you 
were going ? Didn’t you want him to know ? 

(No answer. She turns to him appealingly.) 

Didn't you ? 

Ann (she rises in desperation and gets l. Then he rises , and puts 
chair up stage and gets to L. of table). I won’t answer any more 
questions ! I’ve said that I killed him ! What more do you want 
me to say ? 

Whiting. Didn’t you want your husband to know, Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann. No. I - 

Whiting. Go on! 

Ann. I preferred that he shouldn’t. 

Whiting. Why not ? (No answer.) Why ? 

Ann. Because he was jealous of Mr. Devereaux. 

Whiting. Jealous ? 

Ann. Ridiculously jealous. 

Whiting. And that ridiculous jealousy was your only reason 
for not being frank with your husband ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. You didn’t think it was a reason for not coming ? 

Ann. No. 

Whiting. So you came ? 

(She nods.) 

Sent up your name ? 

Ann. I said, “ A lady.” 

Whiting. And were admitted ? 

Ann. Yes. 


68 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Whiting. What happened then ? 

Ann. Mr. Devereaux at once began making love to me. 
Whiting. At once ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. Why didn’t you go ? 

Ann. He locked the door. 

Whiting. You didn’t try to prevent him ? 

Ann. I stood staring, horrified. I saw him turn the key in the 
lock. There was a struggle—I got to the ’phone, and he pulled it 
out of my hands. I ran—over there— (indicates over r.) —he fol¬ 
lowed me, caught hold of my dress, and I killed him! 

Whiting. In defence of your virtue ? 

(She bows.) 

That’s all, Mrs. Regan. 

(Whiting moves r. of table c. Ann moves slowly to door l.2.) 

As I said, Inspector, it’s really quite simple. Mrs. Regan came 
here in perfect confidence. (Over R. he turns suddenly to Ann, who 
is at door l.2.) I’m right, Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Whiting. Suspecting nothing ? 

Ann. Absolutely nothing. 

(Ann has opened the door. His tone checks her.) 

Whiting. Indeed, she had no reason to suspect. She didn’t see 
this sign on the door! (Takes up sign from table c.) 

Ann. What sign ? 

Whiting (as though Ann had not spoken). Or, if she did, she 
thought- 

Ann (quickly closes door — comes down a step). I didn’t see it. 
Whiting. As I said—it was before her eyes, but she didn’t see 
it. 

Ann (losing self-control — she comes to l. of table c. above it). That 
sign wasn’t on the door ! 

Whiting (puts sign down on table c., face downwards). Where 
was it ? 

Ann. I don’t know. 

Whiting. But it wasn’t on the door when you came in ? 

Ann. No. 

Whiting. Mr. Devereaux didn’t put it on while you were here ? 
Ann. No ! 

Whiting. Nor you, after you’d killed him ? 

(She shakes her head.) 

And yet we are face to face with the circumstance that, when help 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


69 


arrived, that sign was on the door! How do you explain that, 
Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann. I don’t explain it ! 

Whiting. Nor the fact that, although Mr. Devereaux began 
making love to you at once, and locked the door, and tipped over 
the telephone, it was three-quarters of an hour before anyone 
answered that telephone, or heard your cries for help! How do 
you explain that, Mrs. Regan ? 

Ann ( hysterical ). I can’t explain it. I- 

Whiting. But you saw this man locking the door ? 

Ann. Yes ! 

Whiting. And you stood staring, horrified, while he did it ? 

Ann. I’ve told you all that! 

Whiting. Precisely! ( Grossing to her , behind chair.) But you 
haven’t told us what he did with the key ! Or what you were doing 
during that struggle, while the deceased said “ Not in ” to your 
husband. Nor yet by what psychic power you found that pistol 
in a closed cigarette box, and got it . . . from that cigarette box 
... on that table . . . when you were standing over there f 
(Never taking his eyes off Ann, he indicates over r.) You haven’t 
told us why, on the mere presumption of danger to another woman, 
you made it your business to deceive your husband, and come to 
the bedroom of a man he suspected and disliked! And you won’t 
tell us the name of the woman ! 

Ann (l.). I can’t! 

Whiting. Why not ? 

Ann. You know why ! 

Whiting. I know you’re lying, Mrs. Regan ! There is no other 
woman! 

(A slight pause, then enter up r.c. the Police Officer. The 
Inspector moves up to l. of the Officer.) 

Officer (at door up r.c. whispers to Inspector). He’s out there ! 
(Inspector looks at Whiting, who pantomimes “ Send him in.”) 

Inspector (to the Officer). When I call ! 

(Officer exits up r.c., leaving door open.) 

Whiting (opens door l.). I must ask you to step in this room, 
Mrs. Regan! 

(Ann goes to door l.2 and exits. Whiting closes the door.) 

Inspector (when Whiting closes door l.2, calling off into hall up 
r.c.). All right! 

(Whiting comes down l. of and to below table c. to r. corner of it. 

Lafe enters up r.c., drops hat and coat on settee front of fireplace. 


70 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act III. 

drops down and meets Whiting e. of table c. Inspectoe closes 
door after Lafe enters.) 

Whiting ( offering hand to Lafe). Mr. Regan! 

Lafe {perfectly calm and self-possessed—he shakes hands with 
Whiting). How do you do, Mr. Whiting ? You sent for me ? 
Whiting. Yes. Won’t you sit down ? 

(Lafe sits in arm-chair e., facing the table c. Whiting steps down 
and stands l. of Lafe. The Inspectoe is up l. above the table.) 

Mr. Regan, I’ve some bad news for you. Mr. Devereaux has been 
murdered! 

Lafe. Murdered ? Are you sure it was murder ? 

Whiting. Pretty sure. An hour ago, the hotel-keeper heard 
shots from this room, broke in the door, and found him lying here 
dead. You knew the deceased ? 

Lafe. Very well. I called on him this evening. 

Whiting. That’s why we sent for you. Do you mind my asking 
if there was any special reason for your coming % 

Lafe. Certainly not. He was at our place this afternoon—fear¬ 
fully blue. I dined at the Club, and dropped around to cheer him 
up. 

Whiting. Then you two were friends ? 

Lafe. Of course! 

Whiting. You’d never been—jealous ? 

Lafe. Jealous ? Of whom ? 

Whiting. Your wife. 

Lafe. My wife hardly knew him. 

Whiting. Then there was no reason why she should have con¬ 
cealed from you anything regarding Mr. Devereaux ? 

Lafe. Not the least! 

Whiting {after a pause). Was Mrs. Regan at home this after¬ 
noon ? 

Lafe. Yes ; all day. 

Whiting. And she saw Mr. Devereaux ? 

Lafe {perfectly at ease — drawls). Ye-e-s. 

Whiting. Alone ? 

Lafe. Yes ; for a few moments. 

Whiting. And you talked with her afterward ? 

Lafe. Oh, yes! Quite a while ! But—not about Devereaux. 
Whiting. What time did you come to town ? 

Lafe. Around half-past six. 

Whiting. Drive in ? 

Lafe. Yes. 

Whiting. Your own car ? 

Lafe. Yes—no ; in a friend’s car. I told Mrs. Regan I’d leave 
our machine for her. 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


71 


Whiting-. Oh, you told Mrs. Regan. What then ? 

Lafe. I went to the Club, and dined with Colonel Gaunt. 
Whiting (impressed). Francis Gaunt ? 

Lafe (smiles — enthusiastically). Our next Governor ! 

Whiting. I hope so. 

Lafe. Just arrived on the Aquitania. About half-past eight I 
dropped around here. Devereaux was out. I was a little annoyed, 
as I’d hoped to see him, but I left word, and returned to Colonel 
Gaunt. 

Whiting. And that was . . . how long after ? 

Lafe. Oh . . . only a few minutes. 

Whiting. Thank you very much, Air. Regan. 

Lafe (rises and shakes Whiting’s hand). Not at all! 

(Whiting gets over to l. corner of table. Lafe goes up to the settee 
and is about to take up his coat and hat, then, as if the thought had 
just occurred to him, he speaks as he drops down to lower r. edge of 
table c.) 

Oh—if you don’t mind my suggesting-? 

Whiting. Certainly not. (Turning.) 

Lafe. I wouldn’t commit myself to the theory of murder. 
Devereaux was in rather a mess. He might have killed himself. 
Whiting. He might —but we’ve got the person who killed him. 
Lafe (momentarily losing self-control). You’ve got—that’s impos¬ 
sible ! 

Whiting. The murderer was locked in with the dead man! 
(Lafe tense.) 

Locked in, and confessed. 

Lafe. Who ? 

Whiting (pauses, and then goes and opens door l.2, calls off into 
room l.2). Please ! Will you step in here ? 

(A slight pause. Ann enters. She stands transfixed up l., staring 
at Lafe. He starts as he sees her. There is an audible gasp or 
two for breath as he takes in the situation, and realizes at once that 
she must have been in the room when he left. Whiting comes down 
to above table c.) 

Lafe (r., quickly pulls himself together, then quite calmly). You re 
making a mistake, Mr. Whiting. I killed Frank Devereaux. 

Ann (comes to l. of chair l. of table c.). That isn’t true ! 

(Inspector closes door after Ann has come down.) 

Lafe (bitterly). I know—what’s true. I know—you were here 
—when I came—and we’re through! 

Ann (a movement towards him takes her to front of chair l. of the 
table c.). Lafe! 

' o 


72 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Lafe. Keep her away from me ! 

Ann (at lower l. end table c.). Lafe— please —oh, please listen ! 
Lafe (r. between table and arm-chair). I listened this afternoon— 
to one falsehood after another ! I don’t want to hear any more l 
I want nothing from you but to be let alone ! 

(Ann, crushed and hopeless, sinks in chair L. of table c., sobbing.) 

(To Whiting.) Let’s get this over. I came here—for reasons of 
my own. He wouldn’t see me. I didn’t know why— then —but I 
came through the side door and up the stairs. 

Ann (has buried her head on her arms. She now lifts her head—half 
inarticulate to Whiting). No ! No ! He didn’t! He didn’t! 
Whiting (above table c., to Lafe). Nobody saw you ? 

(Neither man pays any attention to Ann.) 

Lafe. No. We had words. Devereaux drew a gun, we fought 
for it and I shot him. I waited—ten minutes or more—but nobody 
came. Then I pinned the sign on the door, locked it on the outside, 
threw away the key, and went back to the Club. That’s all. 

Ann (she rises, hysterically appealing). Don’t believe him, Mr. 
Whiting ! He’s trying to shield me ! Can’t you see that he’s only 
trying to shield me ? (Controls herself. To Lafe, full of emotion.) 
But it’s no use, Lafe ! (She goes to Lafe.) I couldn’t go on without 
you ! I’d rather die than go on without you ! 

(Lafe, unforgiving, turns his back to her.) 

Whiting (to Inspector, who is above and l. of him; pointing to 
the ’phone). Get Colonel Gaunt. (Moves down l. of chair l. of 
table c.) 

Inspector (steps down to above table and takes up the ’phone). 
Hello ! Get me the Cosmopolitan Club—quick ! 

Whiting (at lower l. end table c.). There’s a porter at the side 
door, Mr. Began. 

Lafe. I didn’t see him. 

Whiting. I did—when I came in. 

Inspector (into ’phone). Hello ! Cosmopolitan Club ? Like to 
speak to Colonel Gaunt. Bight away ! Important! Tell him it’s 
Mr. Began! 

Whiting. And you’re asking us to believe that you fired a shot 
in this room, and nobody heard it ? 

Lafe. Yes. 

Whiting. That’s impossible! 

Lafe. It may be impossible—but it’s true! 

Inspector (above table c. into ’phone). Just a minute, please. 
(To Whiting as he passes ’phone to him.) Colonel Gaunt. 

Whiting (below lower l. end table c., takes ’phone — into it). Colonel 
Gaunt ? . . . No; this is the District Attorney—I’m sorry to 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


73 


trouble you, but there’s been a murder. . . . Frank Devereaux— 
What ? Oh, I thought you said something—Lafe Regan says he 
killed him—he hasn’t said why—No; there’s been no mention of 
any woman—Regan was with you ?—Yes, we know that, but he 
says he left you, to come around here. Thank you. That’s just 
what we wanted ! (He hangs up receiver , puts down the ’phone and 
looks at Lafe.) 

Lafe. He remembers I left him ? 

Whiting. For exactly six minutes ! 

Lafe {losing self-control). That’s a lie ! He’s trying to cover me 

because- (He checks himself.) 

Whiting. Because why , Mr. Regan ? 

Lafe. I can’t answer that. 

Whiting. Why not ? 

Lafe. It’s a personal matter. 

Whiting. I’m beginning to understand! (To Ann.) Mrs. 
Regan, the woman you mentioned—the woman you came here to 
protect— was that woman Mrs. Gaunt? 

Ann (shakes her head). No. 

Lafe. This has nothing to do with Mrs. Gaunt. 

Whiting. Perhaps not, but, in that case, your confession’s 
smashed, Mr. Regan. You’re not the first man who’s tried to wish 
himself into an electric chair to save a woman! (Indicates Ann.) 

(The ’phone hell rings sharply until Inspector takes receiver from the 

hook.) 

Inspector (into ’pho ne). Hello! Callahan . . . what? Wait a 
minute. (To Whiting.) There’s a lady asking for Mr. Devereaux. 

(Ann has never taken her eyes from Lafe. She now begins to turn 
toward the table.) 

Whiting. On the ’phone ? 

Inspector. Downstairs. 

Whiting. Any name ? 

Inspector (into ’phone). Any name 1 (A short pause—then to 
Whiting.) No, but she says she had an appointment at eight. 
Ann. No! No! 

Whiting (without waiting for Ann’s “ No ’’—very sharply). It’s 
the other woman ! Get her ! 

Ann (moves quickly to r. side of table c.— to Inspector). Oh, no ! 
Please ! Not now ! Don’t let her come up ! 

Inspector (into ’phone). Tell her to come up ! (Hangs up receiver 
and puts down ’phone.) 

Ann (turns to Lafe in desperate appeal). Oh, no— no ! Lafe, for 
your sake and mine ! Lafe ! 

(Lafe does not move or speak—she goes to Whiting below table c.) 



74 THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. [Act III. 

Mr. Whiting ! I appeal to you ! I don’t care what he thinks of me ! 
Don’t let her come up ! 

Whiting (his hands on Ann’s shoulders, trying to calm her). You’ll 
have to keep quiet, Mrs. Regan. 

Ann (through his speech). Don’t let her come up. 

Whiting. If this woman is here by appointment, and you came 
here solely for the reason you say you did, it may save your life. 

Ann (hysterically). I don’t want my life at the expense of hers ! 
(Is sobbing wildly.) 

Whiting (tries to quiet her). At present everything depends upon 
your silence. She mustn’t suspect what has happened. 

(There is a rap at the door up r.c. Whiting, who has been speaking 
in a low comforting tone, continues in a whisper—to Ann.) 

Quiet, please. Out of sight—every one. 

(Ann controls her sobs — Whiting takes her to the upper l. corner o 
the room.) 

(To Inspector.) Turn out those lights ! 

(The Inspector touches the light switch up r. of the recess up l.c.) 

(To Lafe, who has not moved.) Mr. Regan, please ! 

(Lafe crosses above the table c. to above door l.2. The floor lamp 
over r. is extinguished and the room is in black darkness, except 
for a circle of light that falls into its centre, from the dome hanging 
over the table. Whiting goes up to r. of door and opens it. Into 
the circle of light walks Helen. She comes down to above the upper 
r. end of the table c. Whiting closes the door and comes down R. 
of and below Helen. Whiting and Helen are brightly illuminated, 
but the others are lost in the shadows.) 

Helen (to Whiting, after he has come down). I expected to find 
Mr. Devereaux. 

Whiting. Mr. Devereaux’s gone. 

Helen. And you ? 

Whiting. I’m his man. 

(She hesitates.) 

You had an appointment with Mr. Devereaux ? 

Helen. Yes. 

Whiting. At eight o’clock ? 

Helen. Yes. 

Whiting (reproachfully). He expected you ! 

Helen. I know, but I changed my mind. 

Whiting. Why didn’t you send word ? 

Helen. We came in with father. After we’d left him—at the 
Club—we ran down a boy. A policeman arrested our chauffeur. 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


75 


Marjorie—she’s my friend—telephoned her mother there’d been a 
breakdown, and then we both went to the police station. 
Whiting. I see. 

Helen. And the little boy’s mother came and that made me 
think of my mother; of how she’d found out—this afternoon— 
and was worried, and trying to keep it from father. So I’m just 
going to the theatre, and home, and I thought I ought to explain 
to Mr. Devereaux. Has he gone for good ? 

Whiting ( gently — quietly). I think so. 

Helen. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t go with him. I couldrit. 
Not when I knew how it would hurt mother ! 

(Lafe and Ann can restrain themselves no longer.) 

Lafe. Helen ! (He comes down l.) 

Ann (at the same time). Helen! 

Whiting. Lights! 

(Helen screams. The Inspector turns on the lights. Helen 
recoils as she sees Lafe, then crosses below table c. to Lafe. Ann 
comes down r. of Helen. Marjorie enters up r.c. and comes to 
above table c.) 

Helen (hysterically — frantic). Father, I didn’t come to see Mr. 
Devereaux ; I was going to, but I didn’t. I came to say good-bye. 
I brought Marjorie with me, Marjorie’s with me. I didn’t mean 
to go away with him. Believe me, believe me. Father ! (As she 
goes from Lafe — turns to Ann, who is R. of her.) Mother, make him 
believe me ! Make him believe me ! 

Ann (takes Helen in her arms—comforting her). Oh, my dear 
little- 

(And so on ad libitum, trying to quiet Helen’s sobbing. For a moment 
nothing is heard but Helen’s hysterical sobbing blending with Ann’s 
comforting words, then the door up r.c. opens and the Police Officer 
enters. He hands the Inspector the torn pieces of the flashlight 
photograph. They are up R.c. talking for a moment in pantomime, 
then the Police Officer exits up r.c., closing the door. The 
Inspector puts the torn photograph behind him. Whiting observes 
this business with the Officer. The others are intent on Helen l. 
of table c.) 

Inspector (comes down to Whiting). Mr. Whiting, do you mind 
if I ask a few questions ? 

Whiting (r.). Hoes it seem necessary ? 

Inspector (l. of and above Whiting). I think so. When we 
got here there were a lot of papers on the floor. I told Mac to pick 
’em up, and tag ’em for identification. He’s just brought em m, 
and there’s one makes me pretty sure that this girl was not the 
motive. 


76 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Whiting (looks at him, and sees he has discovered something). I 
think we’d better ask the young ladies to wait in that room. (He 
crosses to above table c. to door l.2 as he speaks.) 

Helen. What is it ? Is any one hurt ? 

Whiting (at door l.2, has opened the door). All in good time—if 
you’ll step into this room. 

(Ann moves to door l.2 with Helen.) 

(Helen, still sobbing hysterically, exits l.2, her crying kept up until 
the door is closed. She is followed by Marjorie.) 

(Ann leaves her at the door, because Whiting gets in front of her, 
thus preventing her from going with Helen. Whiting closes the 
door, then comes above the table c. to r. of it.) 

Now then, Inspector ? 

(Inspector crosses to above table c.) 

Inspector. Mrs. Regan! 

(Ann comes down to l. of chair l. of table c.) 

You said you came here to protect another woman ? 

Ann. Yes. 

Inspector (above table c.). Your daughter ? 

(She nods.) 

She isn’t your own daughter, is she ? 

Ann. No. 

Inspector. But you risked everything to protect her ? 

(She nods.) 

Was that your only motive ? 

(Whiting gets down r. on a line with lower edge of table c.) 
Ann. Of course! 

Inspector. You didn’t come because you were jealous of an old 
lover ? 

Lafe (in angry protest). Mr. Whiting ! 

Whiting (r. of table c., silences him with a gesture). Mr. Regan ! 
Please ! We both want the truth, don’t we ? 

Inspector (above table c.). You didn’t come because you’d caught 
him making love to another woman, and resented it ? You didn’t 
reproach him—quarrel with him—and kill him ? 

Ann (by chair l. of table c.). Certainly not ! 

Lafe. I won’t stand for this ! 

Inspector. Mr. Whiting! 

Whiting (with quiet severity). We’re trying to do our duty, Mr. 


Act III.] 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


77 


Regan. If yon interfere, I shall have to arrest your wife and take 
her to the Police Station. (A slight pause.) Go on, Inspector. 

Inspector. You’d met the deceased before your marriage to 
Mr. Regan ? J 8 

Ann. I said—once or twice. 

Inspector. But you hadn’t been friendly ? 

(She shakes her head.) 

You hadn’t dined with him, travelled with him, or gone with him 
to any questionable resort ? 

Ann. No ! 

Inspector. Then how do you account for the fact that you 
were photographed together, in the custody of the police, five years 
ago, in a raid on a disorderly house ? 

Ann (staggers, pulls herself together , and turns piteously to Lafe). 
Lafe—I- 

Lafe. Don’t say anything! I know it’s a lie ! 

Inspector (putting pieces of torn photograph on table). Is it? 
Well, here’s the photograph ! (Assembles the torn pieces in their 
proper order on the desk blotter and points out the figures to Whiting.) 
The woman—Devereaux—a waiter—and Captain Burke of the Vice 
Squad. (To Whiting, in explanation , who recognizes the photo.) 
Burke’s been dead four years. (To Ann, showing her section of 
photograph with her picture on it.) Is that your picture ? 

Ann. Yes. 

(Lafe turns from her. Inspector puts section of photograph down 

on table.) 

But, Lafe, I didn’t know ! I went with him to supper. He’d been 
kind to me, and I thought it was all right! 

Inspector (severely). You thought it was all right to go alone 
with a man into a private room ? 

Ann (with deep emotion). I’d never heard of the Cafe Mazarin, 

(Whiting goes r.) 

and I trusted Mr. Devereaux. Once we were there he began making 
love to me. I tried to go home. He wouldn’t let me ! I begged 
him. I fought him off, and then—the police! Lafe, I know it 
sounds like a fable. That’s why I lied to you. That’s why I came 
here; to keep that beast from Helen, and hid in there, when you 
came up to this room. Lafe, I’m telling you the truth and, as 
there’s a God in heaven, I’ll make you believe me! 

Whiting (after a pause — quietly). I believe you, Mrs. Regan! 
Inspector. You ! You think it’s true ? 

Whiting (quietly). I know it’s true—I was the waiter! 

(All look at Whiting in surprise.) 


* 


78 


THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 


[Act III. 


Inspector (after a ‘pause). What do you mean ? 

Whiting. Five years ago, I was Assistant District Attorney. 
We’d been trying to get the Mazarin for some time. I went there 
as a waiter. In less than a week I had evidence enough for con¬ 
viction. (To Ann.) That’s the reason I told you to “ beat it.” 
I saw you were a good girl, and I didn’t want you caught in the 
raid. I didn’t recognize you at first, Mrs. Regan—so many cases 
pass through my hands. (A pause—to Lafe.) Well, Air. Regan, 
this puts it up to you! 

Lafe (over l.). I killed him, and I’m ready to stand trial. 

Ann (by chair l. of table c.). Yes, but in self-defence ! I saw it 
from that door ! (Indicating l.2.) 

Whiting (r. of table c.). You can testify to that, Mrs. Regan ? 
Ann. Yes. 

Whiting (to Lafe). And you—didn’t come here to kill him ? 
(Lafe shakes his head.) 

You were unarmed. Devereaux drew a gun, and you got it, and 
killed him. You’ll have to stand trial, Mr. Regan, but there isn’t 
a jury in New York that would convict you under the circumstances. 
It’s a plain case of justifiable homicide. (To Lafe and Ann.) If 
you’ll come with us to my office, we’ll do everything we can for you. 
(Look at Inspector.) 

Inspector. Sure! 

Lafe (as he crosses below table to Whiting — to Inspector). Thank 
you, Inspector ! 

Inspector (smiles). That’s all right. (Goes and gets hat from 
settee, to door r.c.) 

Lafe (as he shakes hands with Whiting). Thank you ! 
(Whiting smiles.) 

May I have a word with my wife ? 

Whiting. Certainly! 

(Lafe takes stage to r. Whiting crosses to Ann, who drops down 
below lower end of table.) 

Don’t worry, Mrs. Regan; it’ll all come right. (Reassuring her, 
crosses up r. and gets hat.) We’ll wait for you outside. 

(Whiting and Inspector exeunt through door r.c.) 

Lafe. Ann, I said—I don’t forgive. Can you ? 

Ann (going to him, her arms about him). My dear! 

(They kiss as the curtain falls.) 

Curtain. 


79 


Act III.] THE SIGN ON THE DOOR. 

Curtain calls : Whiting, Inspector, Ann, Lafe, Helen, Mar¬ 
jorie. 

Whiting, Lafe, Ann, Inspector. 

Average time of Act, twenty-nine minutes. 



Daddy Long-Legs 

A charming: comedy in 4 acts, by Jean Webster, 6 males, 
7 females, and 6 orphans, but by easy doubling: of some char¬ 
acters, may be played by 4 males, 4 females and 3 orphans*) 
The orphans appear only in the first act and may be played 
by small girls, 4 easy interiors. Costumes modern. Flays 2% 
hoars. 

The New York Times wrote the following! 

*‘If you will take your pencil and write down, one below 
the other, the words delightful, charming, sweet, beautiful and 
entertaining, and then draw a line and add them up, the answer 
will be ‘Daddy Long-Legs’. To that result you might even add 
brilliant, pathetic and humorous, but the answer even then 
would be just what it was before—the piay which Miss Jean 
Webster has made from her book, ‘Daddy Long-Legs’, To at¬ 
tempt to describe the simplicity and beauty of ‘Daddy Long- 
Legs' would be like attempting to describe the first breath of 
Spring after an exceedingly tiresome and hard Winter.” 

Enjoyed a two-years' run in New York and was then toured 
for over three years. Royalty, §25.00, Price, 75 cents. 


To the Ladles 

A hilarious comedy in 3 aets, by George S. Kaufman and 
Marc Connelly. 11 males, 3 females. 3 interiors. Costumes, 
modern. Plays 2V& hours. 

The authors of “Duley” have divulged a secret known to 
every woman—and to some men, though the men don’t admit It, 

The central figures are young Leonard Beebe and his wife 
Elsie, a little girl from Mobile. Leonard is the average young 
American clerk, the kind who read all the, “Success” stories in 
the magazines and believe them. Elsie has determined to make 
him something more. She has her hands fnll—even has to! 
make an after dinner speech for him—but she does it and the 
play shows how. 

Helen Hayes played Elsie and Otto Kruger Impersonated 
Leonard in New York, where it ran a whole season. Here’s a 
clean and wholesome play, delicionsly funny and altogether a 
diverting evening’s entertainment. Royalty, §25.00. Price, 75 
cents. 

Three Live Ghosts 

Comedy m 3 acts by Frederick Isham and Max Marcia, d 
.males, 4 females (2 policemen). 1 interior throughout. Cos¬ 
tumes, modem. Plays 2% hours. 

“Three Live Ghosts” is brim full of fun and humor and is 
sure to keop audiences in gales of laughter. The New York 
critics described it as the most Ingenious and amusing comedy 
of the season, genuinely funny. It played a full season in’ 
New York, then toured the big cities. A lively comedy of merit. 
Royalty, §25.00. Price, 75 cents. 

-- . - . —. . .— -----—.— 

SAMUEL FRENCH. 25 West 45th Street, New York City 
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Free on Request 







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